


Pride and Westeros

by ShipMaester



Series: My Regency Stansa Fantasy [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipMaester/pseuds/ShipMaester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fluffy future fiction where Westeros has a “Regency Period” much like England’s Regency Period (1811-1820).  While Jane Austen novels were often before this timeframe, they are of a time with the same look and feel.  This fic tells of “descendants” who happen to look like the late 200s Westeros ancestors they are named after (although not always with the exact last name).  They more than likely will not have the same age, situation in life, siblings, parents, habits, or exact personalities.  Frankly, as I start this . . . I’m waiting to see where these descendants of an AU where there was a King Stannis, first of his name, who married Lady Sansa Stark take me.  I own nothing and to think of profit from this is funny . . . so let's all hail GRRM since these are his toys and I'm being a bit naughty and renaming and redressing them!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

King’s Landing 1811  
Stannis Baratheon

Stannis hated when Prince Robert demanded he attend one of his fancy dress balls. Due to their uncle’s onset of madness, Robert was Prince Regent and sat on the Iron Throne. As such, Stannis couldn’t tell him to shove one of those rusty swords when he required him to leave Storm’s End and come to this hellhole. When sane, Uncle Aegon had never cared which lords came to King’s Landing during the Season. At least, in a fit of insanity, King Aegon had accomplished one of the best renovation projects in the history of King’s Landing by burning down most of the Red Keep. The cost of building the King’s Palace and the other ministerial house and offices had been exorbitant, but not nearly as exorbitant as the recurring costs of maintaining the Red Keep and making it livable.

One of the many things he hated about these affairs was being announced. Stannis stopped for less than a second before descending the staircase into the lavish Great Hall of the King’s Palace as he heard, “Stannis, the Lord of Storm’s End; Lady Shireen Baratheon; and Lord Seaworth. The other two, showing more decorum, waited for the full announcement before following. This particular ball was Robert’s way of celebrating the arrival of Lord Eddard Stark, heir to Winterfell, along with the Prince Regent’s betrothed, Stark’s sister, Lady Lyanna. Stannis knew several of Robert’s aspirants for the next lady of Storm’s End would be present, and he was determined to avoid them all. He had no wish to marry either of Robert’s chosen two ladies, Cercei Lannister or Selyse Tarly. Robert currently favored Lady Cercei, believing the lord of a liege house might placate Lord Lannister in Robert having rebuffed the arrangement made years ago between the King and Lannister. Stannis rather doubted the nephew of a king, even if the lord of a liege house, would be at all attractive to a Cercei Lannister. Not that he could not and would not say _No_ ; he just preferred not to have the inevitable squabble with Robert.

The Tarly girl was merely Robert being perverse in putting forth one known to be both unpleasant in appearance and insipid in intellect. Lady Cercei’s character wasn’t any more pleasant, but her intellect was unquestionable. Stannis strongly suspected her intellect was primarily spent on manipulation. Fortunately, the laws of Westeros had changed and he could not be forced to marry by his king or the prince regent. Many still bowed to a strongly worded wish, especially since it was often accompanied by some inducement. There was no inducement strong enough that either could _legally_ make to encourage him to make such a match. 

“I’ve been told Lord Tully has returned to King’s Landing this season and brings his three daughters,” Seaworth said in a low voice so as not to be heard by anyone other than Stannis and Shireen, and then raised an eyebrow to Stannis, “I hear all three have auburn hair, but one is closer to copper. You have a weakness for redheads, do you not, Baratheon?”

Stannis scoffed and then, as was his trademark, clenched his jaw before relaxing enough to answer. “I believe this redhaired child of House Tully of whom you speak has to be nine or ten years younger than I. What would I have in common with a child?”

As he turned slightly to acknowledge one of the perfunctory bows they were receiving from others with a slight nod, he saw Shireen blush and manage a sideways glance at Seaworth. So that’s how it was! His sister was more somewhere between eight or nine years younger than his friend, and yet he had to admit he was pleased by the possibility of a match between them. The marriage of a lady from a high-born family is usually married to increase the family’s wealth, power, or position. Marriages used to be made for alliance, but that seldom happened. The Baragaryen family, after the power combination of the marriage of King Steffon Baratheon to Lady Shaena Targaryen after the Fourth, and thankfully last, Civil War of 1559 and their son, Renly, combining the house names and creating a family with a firm grip on the Iron Throne for the last two-hundred fifty some years.

Stannis saw no need for either of them to be sacrificed in marriage to politics or money, and the joining again of House Baratheon and House Seaworth, as had happened often over the generations, was welcomed by him. “You have not been a child for many years now, my dear, despite your youth” Stannis tried, hoping to imply that he was not discouraged by this new possibility. “You have far more maturity than many your age and far more sense, as well.”

His sister smiled and took his arm as he guided them toward an uncrowded area. Fortunately, even as members of a liege house, they would be of little interest to most here since there would be so many lords and ladies present, as well as knights and their ladies, with the keenest of interesting being the marriageable sons and daughters. Their other two siblings, Steffon and Rhaelle, both remained in King’s Landing and were far less disapproving of Robert’s dissipated habits, flattering him enough to make life at court pleasant for them. Shireen broke into his thoughts, “You may find that Lady Sansa Tully of interest. After all, we descend from the first King Stannis and his wife, Queen Sansa. I can’t remember if she was originally a Tully, however. Sansa is a name favored mostly in House Tully and House Stark, although it has come from other houses in the North and the Riverlands. I believe Riverrun was once the seat of House Tully in ancient times and was a liege house.”

Seaworth chimed in, “This history of King Stannis, first of his name, is a required education at Cape Wrath as it was he who brought our family into the nobility. After his first wife died in a fever, who was ironically from House Florent, he married Sansa Stark after my ancestor found her hiding from those she believed were out to kill her and returned her to her home in Winterfell. The marriage gave him the strong alliance with the North he needed to defeat all the other claimants to the throne at the time. If I remember correctly, Shireen was a daughter of the king and his first wife.”

Shireen nodded to him, smiling shyly. “Yes, she is the first of that name of which I am aware. I am told I am named for her because she was reputed to have had big ears, as was apparently an obvious curse that was readily apparent at my birth.”

“I have not noticed you to have big ears,” Seaworth defended as they positioned themselves in a vacant spot.

It was all Stannis could do to keep from rolling his eyes at him. He loved his sister dearly, but she did have rather large ears. History was not Stannis’ forte although he often retained bits and pieces of some of the various stories Shireen told him from her voracious reading, spending hours in their home’s rather extensive library. “That is a House Florent trait, is it not? Did you not just say we were descended from King Stannis’ second marriage?”

“I wondered about that as well, “Shireen explained, unconsciously smoothing her dark hair styled to hide her ears before sweeping upward, “I discovered there are several generations for there to be an introduction of Florent traits into our bloodline. As it happens, we also descend from this same Shireen Baratheon. In a suit for peace, she married an Aegon Targaryen. Their great-granddaughter, a second great-granddaughter I believe, married one of the later Baratheon descendants. At least I do not have her scales.”

“Scales?” Seaworth asked with a laugh. “She had scales?”

“There was a disease of that time that usually ended in death. It was called Greyscale. She survived it, but histories tell she had scales on one side of her face and neck.” Shireen looked about the room after answering him, “I see Lady Cercei with her second cousin, Ser Tywin Lannister-Darry. Somehow, I believe Lady Cercei is relieved that cousin Robert did not choose her.”

Stannis did not follow her gaze and kept his more unseemly thoughts to himself. It was long believed that Lady Cercei and her cousin were romantically involved to the point where Lord Lannister was eager to wed her off for fear she would turn up unwed and carrying Tywin’s child. While siblings no longer married as they once did in Westeros, even first cousins who married were not at all unusual. Indeed, it would be difficult not to marry a cousin if you were of the nobility. The challenge was in ensuring you weren’t of too close a kinship for too many generations. It was feared such a thing was why King Aegon, the Eleventh of his Name, had gone mad as had kings from both lines before him. Stannis wasn’t entirely sure what the objection to Ser Tywin by Lord Lannister was, but he would wager if Lady Cercei truly wanted to marry him, she would force the issue by becoming with child. It was all of little interest to him.

“Lord Tully, Lady Catelyn Tully, Lady Sansa Tully, and Lady Lysa Tully of Blackfish in the Riverlands.”

Stannis looked up when the party was announced and while he would never admit it to his sister or his closest friend, his eyes stopped on the face of Lady Sansa more than the rest. Seaworth had been right; her hair was a red that he had to admit he found . . . attractive. It wasn’t the same shade of red as Melisandre’s hair and it didn’t make her look dangerous. Mel had a beauty that made a man want to throw her onto the nearest bed and have his way with her, as she had let him do before joining the cult who worshipped R’hllor in the old fashion with fire and sacrifice and had been banned from Westeros. Lady Sansa Tully was quite the opposite. Hers was a beauty that was too delicate and regal for that sort of behavior. He wouldn’t be surprised if the men in the Great Hall didn’t bow to her in the way usually reserved for the royal family just at the sight of her. Her sisters would get equal attention, or at least the oldest of the three sisters would. Lady Lysa would be considered far prettier than many other ladies in the room, but he had to admit she paled in comparison to her two sisters. Many present would be aware that House Tully had been absent from King’s Landing during the Season for many years due to the long illness, death, and subsequent period of mourning for their Lady Tully. Stannis remembered Lady Catelyn’s first and last Season just before her lady mother took ill, and her acceptance of a proposal from Ser Trystan Dayne. She returned to Blackfish in the Riverlands with her mother and Dayne went down with his ship while traveling to Blackfish for the marriage. What he could not remember was how old Lady Catelyn was at the time and how many seasons ago that had been. He guessed Lady Sansa to be around the same age as Shireen, which would make her eight and ten. He assumed Lady Catelyn was a year or two older. Lady Lysa was actually, in his opinion, too young for attending her first Season. She looked to be five and ten at the most.

His lingering attention on the Tully sisters did not go unnoticed by Shireen. “Lady Sansa is very beautiful,” she whispered. His sister would, unfortunately, know exactly which one would catch his eye.

Trying to be dismissive, Stannis put on the scowl that Shireen often teased him was his grumpy face and turned away from the Tully party. “There are many ladies here tonight with any number of appealing features. Lady Sansa is merely is one more.”


	2. Chapter 2

King’s Landing 1811  
Sansa Tully

Her first ball at King’s Landing and Sansa was both excited and terrified. This was not an ordinary opening ball of the Season either. It was known that the Prince Regent was going all out to impress his new Hand, Lord Eddard Stark, son of Winterfell, and his betrothed, Lord Eddard’s sister, Lyanna. Sansa’s first Season would have been two years ago but for the death of her mother. She mourned the loss of her lady mother far more than the loss of her first two Seasons. Indeed, only five years ago, most daughters of lords, even of knights, were married before they turned eight and ten, but of late, such was not the case. Great beauties such as Lady Cercei Lannister and Lady Oleanna Tyrell, who were closer to twenty, were not yet married. Her lord father had said it was due to the fairly new law that allowed young ladies the ability to say no to an arranged marriage. She knew her dear lord father wished he could afford for them to never marry and leave home.

As they entered the Great Hall, Sansa touched her older sister’s arm in support. While the rest of the Tully’s were here despite still mourning Lady Tully, Catelyn still mourned both her mother and the knight she was once betrothed to. Sansa never tired of Catelyn’s description of him - fair-haired with eyes so blue, they were almost violet, tall, and broad shouldered. Catelyn did not want to be here, but neither did she want to be the old maid of Blackfish.

As for herself, she knew she should be attempting to attract at least a knight as a husband. House Tully, once a Great House in Riverrun, was now a small House in the Riverlands. It was still a proud House and while her lord father loved his daughters, there was talk that he too would be looking to marry during this Season in hopes of obtaining a son and heir for Blackfish. Still, marrying a daughter of House Tully did not come with a large dowry or lands and it would be obvious to those who did not already know this as the Season progressed. Tonight, they wore fine new dresses of silk, but silk would soon turn to muslin unless they wore the same two silk dresses they each had over and over again.

She had thought she might marry and never see a Season. A little over a year earlier, while visiting Jeyne Mallister, she met Tyrion Clegane. At first, she had been horrified by his crude manner and imposing visage, yet there had been something appealing about him. Jeyne allowed that, if a lady had a tender heart; it was difficult not to become enamored of a man totally besotted with her. After her return to Blackfish, Sansa waited to hear from him or for him to arrive at Blackfish, but he did not. It was possible Tyrion has written her father and he had rejected him. Still, Tyrion did not seem like a man to take no for an answer, so Sansa was never quite sure and had to assume distance made him lose interest. While she could not say her heart was broken by the turn of events, it taught her to guard her heart all the same.

As they ascended the staircase, a tall, dark-haired man perhaps a few years older than Catelyn approached them. He was regally dressed in the royal blue uniform of the admiralty. Their father recognized him and bowed, which prompted her and her sisters to curtsy. “It is good to see you back, Lord Tully!” the young man greeted, returning their curtsies with a bow. “Perhaps you will introduce me to your daughters.”

“Lord Steffon Baratheon, Lieutenant in His Majesty’s Navy,” her lord father began in his deep, booming voice, “May I introduce my eldest daughter, Lady Catelyn, and my younger daughters, Lady Sansa and Lady Lysa.” Sansa now realized she was in the presence of the Prince Regent’s cousin, a son of House Baratheon although she believed it was his brother who was now Lord of Strom’s End and House Baratheon. She believed he had two sisters, Rhaella and Shireen. She had heard much of Rhaella’s beauty as well as hearing Shireen spoken of as homely, which she found such an impolite thing to say about any one.

Lysa raised an eyebrow as she gave the flimsiest of curtsies when introduced. “I like your uniform,” Lysa announced not bothering to hide her intense scrutiny, “it is much nicer than the ones worn by the King’s Guard, although I hear they are excellent swordsmen.”

Catelyn and she turned pink at such a comment, while Lord Steffon appeared amused. “Forgive her, my Lord . . . youth and country manners,” their father attempted.

“She is right, Tully,” Lord Steffon replied with a smile. “We no longer have many sword fights at sea. So you see, we get less practice.” Sansa decided she quite liked this young lord who did not seem to have the manners of the Prince Regent despite her having heard they were close. Catelyn had come back from King’s Landing years ago with tales of the prince who was now Prince Regent and the tales were less than flattering, describing him as believing himself very charming, while actually being quite crude. Sansa got the impression that, despite her young age at the time, the Prince Regent had tried to have his way with her sister and failed. It was rumored that Lady Lyanna Stark was less than happy with her fate.

Lord Steffon looked briefly to his left and beckoned for someone to join them. A young man of similar age to Lord Steffon, also wearing the uniform of an officer in Royal Navy and perhaps the most handsome young man she had ever seen, joined them. Lord Steffon introduced him as Lieutenant Loras Tyrell. He had curly light brown hair, light brown eyes, and a pleasing smile. When Sansa realized she was inspecting him far too closely for it to be polite, she made it worse by blushing furiously.

“If you will allow me to escort Lady Catelyn on one arm and Lady Lysa on the other, Tully, I’m sure Lieutenant Tyrell would be pleased to see Lady Sansa into the hall,” the young lord steered them from the edge of the staircase into the Great Hall. Sansa was sure she was still blushing when the smiling Lieutenant Tyrell presented his arm and she nervously took it.

“Is this your first visit to King’s Landing, My Lady?” Lieutenant Tyrell asked and she knew it was more about being polite than of any genuine interest.

“Yes,” she answered, having collected herself. “Are you from the Reach, Lieutenant?” Sansa asked, attempting conversation as she looked in awe and the finery of dress all around the Great Hall.

Lieutenant Tyrell was all smiles. “I am a relation of the Tyrells of Highgarden and have visited there on many occasions,” he replied. “My home is the other side of Oldtown from Highgarden.”

Further discourse stopped as they reached Lord Steffon’s destination within the hall. The Tully party and their escorts exchanged bows and curtsies with two men and a young lady briefly before Lord Steffon swept the girl, much her own age she imagined, up in a hug. “I am so glad to see you, Shree,” Lord Steffon growled affectionately. This must be Lady Shireen Baratheon. Sansa did not find her homely at all. It was true she wasn’t a beauty in the sense that Catelyn or Cercei Lannister could be said to be beautiful to look at. Lord Steffon let go of her, both stopping to beam at each other, before he turned to the older of the two men, “How are you, brother?” The greeting let her know this was Lord Baratheon of Storm’s End. She knew him to be but a little younger than the Prince Regent, who was thirty, although his receding hairline made him look older as did his somber expression. In sharp contrast to his sister, Lord Baratheon returned his brother’s smile with a brief widening to of his lips before returning to what she could only call an expressionless mask. He wore this mask as Lord Steffon formally introduced the two parties.

From these introductions, Sansa learned the other man with them, one she supposed to be of a similar age to Lord Baratheon, was Lord Seaworth of Cape Wrath in the Stormlands. Sansa and Catelyn exchanged pleasantries with Lady Shireen while her father, Lord Seaworth, and the two Baratheon brothers talked of the first convening of the House of Lords during the Season. Lysa fidgeted and looked around the room until something or someone caught her attention, but Sansa did not notice what or whom.

All came to a halt when trumpets blared and the crier announced, “His Royal Highness, Robert, Prince Regent of Westeros.”

“Oh my,” Catelyn whispered with a giggle as they descended into yet another curtsy, “He’s even fatter than I remembered. Poor Lyanna!”


	3. Chapter 3

King’s Landing 1811  
Stannis Baratheon

For most of the period before the dancing was to begin, Stannis talked to various peers regarding matters coming before the House of Lords, trying to avoid concerns regarding the direction Robert might take financial matters – or rather, bring ruin to financial matters.  Seaworth kept Shireen company and there would be no question after tonight that they had developed a mutual regard for one another beyond the friendship of a close acquaintance.  It was amusing to watch them try to act otherwise.  Stannis found himself standing in positions among those with him he talked so that he could easily observe the introductions being made to the Tully sisters.  Interest was keen among the men in attendance.  He expected the youngest to be merely tolerated for the sake of politeness, yet he was initially surprised to find Lady Catelyn receiving far less attention than he expected although he did observe Lord Eddard engaging her in a lengthy conversation while he introduced his sister to the Tullys.  Stannis had forgotten that the death of Lord Dayne might carry a bit of superstition regarding association with Lady Catelyn.  For the interest shown her, Lady Sansa seemed shy and uncomfortable.  Lieutenant Tyrell was chief among those following her around and she appeared most comfortable with him.  Stannis also noticed Ser Tywin and Lord Hardying trying to catch her eye.  Those were dangerous waters he hoped such an innocent would be advised by someone to avoid.    

Steffon approach him once more and informed him that Robert wished to talk to him.  In one glance, he learned why.  Robert was telling some tale or another to Ned, as Lord Eddard was called by friends, which Stannis supposed he was since he had been asked to call him such; Lady Lyanna; Lady Cercei; and Ser Tywin.  All but Lady Lyanna gave the pretense of being highly entertained. 

“There you are!” Robert bellowed when he approached them and gave Robert his rightful deep bow due as Prince Regent, as well as a bow to others in his circle. 

“Yes,” Stannis replied, not at all successful in keeping the disinterest out of his voice.  “It is good to see you back in King’s Landing,” he continued, directing the comment at the Stark.  Stannis extended no additional greeting to Lady Cercei or Ser Tywin.    

“It is good to see you, Stannis!” Lord Eddard offered and it sounded sincere enough.  It was while observing him to gauge this sincerity that he noticed Lord Eddard’s eyes go across the room with keen interest before returning back to the group gathered.  While Stannis could not look to see what, or more likely who, caught his eye without being overt in the matter, he could guess it was much in line with how his own eyes had wandered this evening.  To most here, he and Ned Stark were the two men least likely to be looking to form an attachment.  But they were also getting older, needed heirs, and for his own part, finding life a little lonely despite his general inclination to be alone much of the time. 

Robert, having allowed himself to be silent for as long as it was possible for him to do so, cut in, “This is a ball, Stannis, and the dance is about to begin.  I would see you dance tonight, including the first dance.”

Stannis all but rolled his eyes.  “It may be too late to make that edict, Your Grace.  Most ladies’ dance cards are filled and my name is not among them.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Cercei smirking.  She fully expected him to do as the Prince Regent hinted and ask her for the first dance and he was equally certain she was prepared to tell him her dance card was full, but that Ser Tywin would part with one of his dances if he insisted.  Robert would then insist for him and Stannis wanted none of it. 

“Well then, Your Grace, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.” 

“Excuse you?” Robert thundered back at him.  “I do not understand.  What work?”

He saw the hint of amusement in Ned’s eyes as he caught on.  “Did you not just tell me I must engage a lady for the first dance?” Stannis answered with exaggerated innocence.  “I’m quite sure you will lead the dance with Lady Lyanna, and I’m equally certain Lady Cercei’s dance card is filled.  I must make haste to seek a partner.  Your Grace?” 

There was little Robert could do and he knew it.  “Off with you then!”

Stannis bowed to Robert and the assembly again, and backed away as one did in when leaving the presence of one’s sovereign.  Having reached the perfunctory distance required, he turned and looked around the room to once again find that Shireen and Seaworth were still with the Tullys.  His sister knew him well and he was about to play on both that fact and her particular gifts.  If he must dance, he would prefer to ask Lady Sansa.  No doubt Lieutenant Tyrell was her first dance, but he had probably also engaged her for more than one dance.  It would be easy to ask Lady Sansa and watch the lieutenant try to garner favor with a lord who was in good stead with the Admiralty by offering his place on the dance card.  However, asking her would make him look like a pompous ass who expected her dance partner to cave due to his higher station.  He would have to count on Shireen. 

“Forgive my intrusion into your party,” Stannis said as he came among them.  “The Prince Regent is insisting I dance the first dance so Seaworth, I must beg you, as an old friend, to allow me to borrow my sister.”

Just as if they had planned it together, Shireen countered quickly.  “Prince Robert will not be satisfied with your dancing with your sister, Stannis!”  She gave an imploring look to the two older Tully sisters.  “Do either of you have your first dance partner elsewhere on your card?”  Stannis did not know who Lady Catelyn’s first dance partner was or whether he had engaged more than once dance, but he knew Shireen knew and her addressing both Tully sisters meant Lady Sansa stood alone as having her first dance partner repeated on her dance card. 

Right on cue, Lieutenant Tyrell spoke up before either of the Tully sisters.  “I have the honor of the first dance with Lady Sansa, as well as the fourth.  If the lady is agreeable, I would sacrifice the first dance to satisfy My Lord and the Prince Regent.” 

His former maesters would have been proud of what he did next.    Rather than wait for her reply, he asked for it as a well-mannered lord should have in the first place.  “My Lady, I know it is an imposition and I am not an accomplished dancer.  However, both you and Lieutenant Tyrell would have my gratitude if you would allow me the honor of your first dance.” 

Lady Sansa turned her Tully blue eyes on him and smiled politely, “As Lieutenant Tyrell has been gracious enough to accede, I shall be honored to accept.  However, I have a request, My Lord.” 

Stannis had no idea what was this request could be.  “May I hear the request before I comply?”

“You may,” she replied.  He would have to call the smile she still cast him playful, although he would not go so far as to say it was flirtatious by any stretch of the imagination.  “I would ask that, in the course of the evening should you observe any ladies without partners, that you would extend them the same courtesy shown to you by seeing that they are partnered.” 

 _Well played, Lady Sansa!_   While Lady Catelyn looked uncomfortable and Lieutenant Tyrell was more than shocked, Shireen did not even bother to muffle her laugh and there was no amount of musket and powder that could have blown the grin off of Seaworth’s face. 

Playful repartee was a far cry from the biting wit he knew he possessed, but he made an attempt at a lighthearted rejoinder.  “My Lady, should I notice any lady tapping her feet and appearing to be in want of a partner, I shall make haste to find one for her if I have to ask every man in the hall.  You have my word on it.” 

Stannis was quite certain he heard Lady Catelyn let out a sigh of relief.  He was well aware that his reputation might suggest he would glare at her younger sister and say something acerbic in reply.  Had he been so inclined, as he would have if many a lady in this hall said the same to him, Shireen would have upbraided him until his ears bled.  He didn’t have much time to assess the situation as the musicians were warming up and Robert was already leading Lady Lyanna to the Great Hall’s dance floor.   Lady Cercei and Ser Tywin followed and Stannis put out a hand to lead Lady Sansa to the floor, deliberately waiting for two other couples to be between them so that he would have little interaction with Lady Cercei in the dance. 

They were joined by Shireen and Seaworth, and he found it interesting to see Ned Stark and Lady Catelyn make their way to the floor.  The hall had couples lined up just shy of one end of the hall to the other before the first strains of The Jonquil Reel began.

“My Lord, might I inquire how long it has been since you have danced?” Lady Sansa asked during one of the turns where conversation could be heard.

Until she spoke, he thought he was doing rather well in keeping up with the steps as he remembered them.  “My apologies, Lady Sansa.  I did warn you dancing is not on my list of accomplishments.”

When the dance allowed them to be close enough again for her to speak to him, she continued the conversation, “You have nothing to apologize for, My Lord.  That is the point.  You dance very well for someone who implies he hasn't the skill for it.  I was curious as to whether you attend dances in the Stormlands, and only wish not to dance in King’s Landing or other places with less familiar surroundings?” 

During the next pass, he answered her question.  “I have ignored all the dance floors in the Stormlands with the exception of the one in the hall of Storm’s End.  Our maesters were quite fond of forcing me to partner Shireen when they were teaching her to dance and she still insists on using me for practice.  I am sure it is meant only to vex me.”  As the words left his mouth, Stannis wished them back.  He did not want Lady Sansa to think he found it a burden to dance with her.  However, he couldn’t think of anything to say to redeem himself that would sound any less that disingenuous.    

If she was insulted, she did not show it.  At one point in the reel as the moved in formation down the line, Lady Cercei caught his eye and delivered one of her famous smirks as she deliberately looked from him to Lady Sansa and back to him.   Stannis had not considered that there would be rumors about Lord Baratheon dancing with one lady and one lady only at the Regent’s Ball.  Lady Sansa was quite right.  He would have to find more than one partner for the evening.  He hoped Shireen foresaw this possibility and put his name on one of her dances.  Undoubtedly Selyse Tarly would have a free dance.  If he had to dance with Lady Selyse or Lady Cercei, it would be the former. 

Lady Sansa broke into his thoughts as one of the last moves of the reel required her to place her left hand in his, while he stood behind her with his right hand on her waist to lead her into a circle.  He had the unbidden thought that he was glad gloves were no longer expected on formal occasions.  Stannis was disconcerted by how much he liked the feel of her long, slim fingers in his palm and his face being so close to her hair as she arched back slightly.   He had no idea what the light, flowery scent was when he inhaled as her copper hair piled high in an intricate pattern on her head came close to his nose.  Whatever it was, it was not the lavender so many ladies seem to douse themselves with while being dressed for these functions.  It was far more subtle and far more pleasant without being overwhelming. 

At the end of the dance, she curtsied and he bowed.  It was a source of irritation to him how much one was required to do such things at these functions.  Stannis offered her his arm to escort her back to where they had been previously standing so that her next partner could claim her.  “Thank-you, My Lady.”

She drew his attention to others in the room by a somewhat nervous sweep of the hall with her eyes.  “It seems the return of Lord Baratheon to the dance floor of the Great Hall is already the source of much conversation,” she began as she placed her hand gently just above the bend of his elbow, “I am not quite sure what to make of the attention.”

There was no denying more than a few eyes were on the two of them as they began to leave the floor.  “Gossips will be what they enjoy most being, My Lady.  You will find that speculating on which lady receives attention from whom and whose  hearts she manages to break is, sadly, the sport of the Season.” 

No sooner had they arrived at their previous spot along the side of the hall when they were joined by Shireen and Seaworth.  “I am quite proud of you,” his sister announced, “of course, I should reserve that until I ask your partner whether you stepped on her toes.”

Lady Sansa removed her hand from his arm and her smile had returned to being one of shyness again.  Stannis wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.  She could be shy one minute and quite bold the next.  “Lord Baratheon is quite an accomplished dancer.  I could not have asked for a better partner for my first dance of my first Season.” 

“May I fetch a glass of punch for you both?” Seaworth cut in.  “You will not have much time before the next dance.”  Stannis wished he had been the one to think of extending such a courtesy.  Both ladies accepted Seaworth’s offer and just as he was beginning to worry about how to entertain them on his own, Lord Petyr Hardying approached. 

“Baratheon, Lady Shireen . . . we do not often have the pleasure of your company in King’s Landing.” 

Stannis wanted to reply that it was for good reason.  Few were as slippery in their praise and their dealings as Hardying.  Due to the ladies present, he opted for civility.  “There is much before the House of Lords that needs attention,” was the closest he could get to a passive reply.

Hardying turned to Lady Sansa.  “I have the pleasure of the next dance with you sister, and look forward to our dance later in the evening, My Lady.”   

The deliberate slight to Shireen by neither mentioning a dance with her nor expressing regret at not having the pleasure set his teeth to grinding.  The sound must have been loud for it caused Lady Sansa to look at him with wide eyes.  It appeared as though she nodded at him ever so slightly and then looked back at Hardying.  “I am glad you mentioned our dance, Lord Hardying.  If I am not mistaken, you have the next to the last dance.  I’m afraid I am not used to these long balls and you may find I will have to excuse myself from that particular dance in order to have strength for the last dance, which is one of my favorites.  I am sure you only asked me out of politeness and, therefore, will be very understanding.” 

Raising an eyebrown, Hardyng was aware he had just been all but slapped.  Whatever retort he might have considered making was usurped by the arrival of his next dance partner.  He gave Lady Catelyn his full attention and his expressions of flattery became nonsensical noise in Stannis’ ears.   Seaworth was returning the two glasses of some concoction that looked more like watery milk than anything else with Lieutenant Tyrell on his heels.  “I have the pleasure of the next dance with Lady Shireen,” Tyrell pronounced, as if his every move needed to be heralded. 

“Who has engaged you for the next dance, Lady Sansa?” he found himself asking with more interest that he would have liked. 

“That would be my pleasure,” Seaworth provided as he handed the small glasses to Shireen and Lady Sansa.  “I assume you will be back to discussing politics?”

“Most definitely.”  Stannis had never wished to have the gift of being able to say flattering words, but he did wish he had the appropriate words to assure Lady Sansa that he enjoyed their dance.  Truthfully, he wanted to ask her where they were staying and whether he had her permission to call upon her; something he had not done since Mel’s first season nine years or so ago.    The words would not find their way out.  Instead, he bowed and did his best to smile.  “You have my sincere appreciation for your rescue, Lady Sansa.  I do hope you enjoy your evening.” 

She curtsied yet again in answer, smiled, and then turned her attention to Shireen.  Stannis left them in search of the married lords who were seldom required to dance, in hopes that a heated debate on the grain tax bill would divert his attention.  He had no such luck.  His eyes kept finding Lady Sansa and her partners.  He did dance one dance with Shireen and, true to his word, he asked the sister of Ser Joer Mormont to dance when he saw her in want of a partner toward the end of the evening.  Worse, he found himself making sure Lady Sansa saw that he had done as she asked.  The bright smile she cast him as he passed her in the dance sealed his fate.  Well, that was not entirely true.  It was sealed the moment she let Hardying know she no longer wished to dance with him after his inconsiderate behavior towards Shireen.  When she actually sat out the dance, it was like nails on a coffin.   Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Storm’s End, was hopelessly besotted with a lady far too young and far too . . . many things, he was sure . . . for him.  He had only planned to stay in King’s Landing for a month, but now, his sanity might demand he cut the visit to a fortnight.  Running from any situation was not his manner, but were it not for Shireen, he would leave for Storm’s End this very night. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

King’s Landing 1811  
Cercei Lannister

After the first dance in the Great Hall, Cercei pulled her cousin’s arm to ensure he took her someplace they could talk privately until the next dance, but still be seen by others to keep the usual talk about the two of them to a minimum.  “Have you a dance with the Tully girl?”  She ensured that an observer would not see the fury that had bubbled to the surface and threatened to explode. 

Tywin, ever suave and detached took a sharp breath as if bored with the subject at its start.  “There are three, My Dear,” he replied factitiously, taking the small dance card out of the interior pocket of his waistcoat, consulting it briefly, and then returning it.  “I seem to have one dance each with two of them.”

“I assume you avoided the child, so you have dances with the two older ones.  That is good.”

“And why is that good?”  Tywin asked, nodding at someone across the room in acknowledgement. 

Cercei gazed up at him and her smile was dripping with scorn.  “I want you to flatter, woe, and generally court Sansa Tully this Season . . . and then,” she made sure she had his full attention, “And then I want you to ruin her.”

Tywin’s expression of surprise was short lived and the usual air of boredom overtook both his expression and his voice.  “I thought perhaps you were planning some form of retribution for Baratheon, but this hardly affects him.  The poor chit could not avoid dancing with someone of his station when asked.  Or am I missing something?”

Cercei looked away from him toward the group where Baratheon stood talking to Sansa Tully, his sister, and Seaworth.  “You were not paying attention.  Baratheon’s choice was deliberate, or if not, he was well pleased with it by the end of the dance.  Being cast aside by that waddling imbecile, Robert, is a relief.  However, any future casting aside will by my doing.  I would not marry Stannis Baratheon if he was served on a silver platter or Storm’s End was suddenly converted to solid gold with rivers of Dornish Red and emeralds dripping from every tree limb.  But, I will not allow him to let him publicly court a Tully before he has been properly and publicly refused by me.”

“You do realize that, in order to ruin her, I will need to deflower her?”

This made her roll her eyes at him.  Cercei loved him, as much as she was capable of loving someone.  She certainly enjoyed his expertise in bed and anywhere else they managed to copulate, yet if he believed she would not spread her legs elsewhere if it suited her fancy or served a purpose, Tywin was mistaken.  She knew the same was true for him.  “You needn’t be burdened by an overabundance of scruples on my account.  Barring that, I want to be able to spread a believable rumor that you have, regardless whether true or false.”

They both acknowledged Lord and Lady Lefford as they passed by, waiting until they were out of earshot.  “You do realize there is a fatal flaw in your plan.  Everyone knows I must marry money and that Lannister has refused to allow our marriage.  The Tullys could hardly be said to qualify as a wealthy family.  Hardying is a better man for your plot, and he is far more . . . charming.”

“Smarmy, you mean!” Cercei laughed scornfully.  “You do have a point about your interest raising questions,” she conceded, “I must give that more thought.  Someone else would mean Baratheon may not realize, when his chosen lady becomes someone he cannot afford to redeem without risk to his own reputation, that it was my doing.  I want that above all else.” 

Tywin gave her a sideways glance and scoffed.  “That I would more than likely have to kill Tully in a duel is of little concern.  My reputation has withstood worse.  Should Baratheon decide that he wishes to defend her honor, I cannot say that is a chance I am willing to take merely to assuage your wounded pride.” 

Were Baratheon to call him out, the outcome was not necessarily guaranteed in her cousin’s favor, regardless of whether swords or pistols were chosen.  “What you are saying is there are two matters to take care of as part of a plan.  One is to make your pursuit of her plausible and the second is to ensure Baratheon cannot call you out.”  Cercei hazarded a glance at Baratheon as he still conversed with the Tully girl.  “Are there any more obstacles you can think of other than those two?”

“Both are rather formidable obstacles, My Dear.”  Tywin kept his eyes on the crowd.  “I will not force myself on the Tully girl in order to ruin her.  What I will do is court the lady and I will win her affection, which you can flaunt over Baratheon as you please.  I will be caddish enough to monopolize her first season and then leave her high and dry without a marriage proposal.  If Baratheon wishes to lower himself into taking another means leavings, you may have to accept that.  It will give you much to talk about publicly as to his discretion.”

This plan did not please Cercei at all, but it would do as a start until she came up with a more damning one.  After all, she had only had less than an hour to strategize.  “You will ruin her if she offers herself?”

“I’m hardly one to turn down such from one as lovely as the lady in question when it’s offered.  And I will probably attempt to get her to make the offer; what man would not?   Your power is more in being able to imply that one such as me is looking to find from another lady what I cannot get from you.”

Cercei smirked at that last.  “Do you really believe there is anyone in Westeros that does not think we are at it like rabbits?”  She had little regard for the requirement for reputation, much to her lord father’s regret, just as she had little regard for simpletons who felt chastity was a virtue to be desired in a wife. 

Tywin cast a look her way and scoffed, “You have your vulgar moments, My Dear.”  His comment irritated her, but further discourse on the matter was halted when the Prince Regent approached her to claim the second dance. 

During the dance, the Robert prattled on and Cercei smiled and simpered when facing him, and made sure the rest of the room saw her ennui when his back was turned.   She also kept an eye on Sansa Tully as she danced with Lord Seaworth, and that Lord Baratheon was making a poor showing of not watching her as he conversed with other men in the room.  If she were being honest, she would love to see the ruin of both Tully sisters merely for rivaling her for beauty.  They would be the talk of the Season, and she preferred to have that honor herself.  There was a lot wrong with her plan and Tywin’s variation, but she would come up with something or embellish the current plan to her satisfaction.  She always did. 


	5. Chapter 5

Kings Landing 1811  
Shireen Baratheon

Shireen could not remember a time when she wasn’t observing others, trying to discern their motivations, expectations, actions, and often, their opinion of her and her loved ones.  Even if she could not remember when or how she learned to be so observant, she knew the why of it well enough.  Her older sister, Rhaelle, had both beauty and charm . . . the two things her mother believed were essential to a female in these times.  Shireen could not say she had not felt love from her mother, but she felt her pity more.    Rather than resent it, she tried to understand it.  Understanding it meant closely observing to learn why her mother found such things overly important.  In turn, she learned that her mother was afraid of what others thought about even the most minute of things, and it made Shireen sad for her. 

After their father died of a heart seizure six years earlier, her lady mother had moved to the Baratheon townhouse in King’s Landing, taking Rhaella and Steffon with her.  Shireen had only been two and ten, but her mother announced that Shireen should stay and grow up at Storm’s End where the opinions of others could not be heard and, thus, upset her.  Of course, her mother would believe she had the same regard for such opinions.  Shireen knew her mother was trying to be protective in her way.  Stannis had, respectfully, but firmly, reproached their mother for her opinion that Shireen would find King’s Landing too harsh a place with her plain looks.  With the exception of Stannis, they had talked that day as if she wasn’t in the room.  Rhaella had offered the opinion that Shireen was too young to properly enjoy living there even if she could attract admirers in a few years.  Steffon had regretfully sided with their mother, saying he did not wish to see her feelings hurt when Rhaella received far more attention.  She remembered the bright red fury emblazoned on Stannis’ face as he tried to figure out how to tell their mother what he was thinking without crossing the line in showing respect for one’s parent, and Shireen knew his answer would be to turn that fury on their other siblings.  To prevent it, she had gone to his side and tugged at his sleeve to get his attention.  “It matters not.  I want to stay here with you at Storm’s End.”  Indeed, while the words regarding her misfortunes of appearance had stung, if only because it proved some in her family though her worse than plain in appearance, the truth of the matter was that she had wanted to stay at Storm’s End and preferred being raised by Stannis and the tutors there than being in King’s Landing. 

Last Season had been her first visit to King’s Landing since her mother, Steffon, and Rhaella had made it their home.  Stannis had suggested taking her to visit every Season, but the only reason she had agreed the previous year was due to Devan’s persuasion and that her mother had remarried and had left King’s Landing to return to another part of the Stormlands with the widowed Ser Arstan Selmy.  She could not stand to see her mother cringe every time they were at a public gathering together.  Rhaella, too, had married Ser Anders Yronwood.  As heir to the lordship of Yronwood, Ser Anders and his lady spent most of their time in King’s Landing in the Yronwood townhouse, as all of the wealthier families of the nobility owned one although some of the lesser houses rented them for the Season only.  Rhaella was now heavy with their first child and was prevented from much of the Season’s activities.  Shireen would visit often despite Rhaella’s lack of encouragement. 

This Season promised to be far more interesting.  Just before the previous Season, Shireen had realized the change in Devan’s regard for her.  For her part, she had been in love with him since she was four and ten, and somehow, she knew it would eventually be requited.  Shireen had made no special effort to gain his interest other than to be herself during his visits with her brother.  However, it had been difficult to encourage him to acknowledge his affections once she was aware they existed.  Such wiles were not in her nature so she had leaned a little toward her brother’s bluntness and, during a walk, asked Devan if he had something he wished her to know.  Devan had sputtered a bit, but eventually got the words out that he no longer thought of her as a little girl or merely the beloved sister of his closest friend.  From there, it had taken very little pressing to ensure he was saying what she wanted to hear and then let him know that his affections were returned.  What had amused her was Devan’s insistence that they wait until she was eight and ten to tell Stannis about it.  It was not of great concern to her that there had been no formal proposal for her to accept and that, over a year later, Devan spoke as if it was a foregone conclusion they would marry.  If she truly wanted a formal proposal, she would ask him to do so.  But now, they both knew Stannis had figured their relationship out and was pleased.  The timing was not good.  She had work to do this Season that did not involve preparing for her own wedding. 

Rhaella had told her the Tully ladies were rumored to be in town for the Season and when she saw three ladies with varying shades of auburn hair and bright blue eyes walking into a tea shop as she rode by in the carriage with Devan the day before the ball, she knew they were the Tullys.  One look at Sansa Tully set off something that made her think of Stannis.  To be sure, he favored red hair although Shireen wanted little to remind her, or Stannis, of his disastrous relationship with Melisandre Ashai.  Lady Sansa’s hair was red, but a different red . . . a coppery red rather than a bright red that Shireen often thought was not natural.  Lady Catelyn was more of an age for Stannis, but it was the middle Tully daughter that her insides told her would appeal to her brother.  Upon meeting her at the ball and finding her both intelligent and of gentle disposition, she was sure of it. 

Shireen had once read of an ancient tribe in Sothoryos that believed there were those who had such a strong connection between them, that they were able to read each other’s thoughts and that there were others who had the ability to perceive what others, regardless of relationship, thought.  Stannis had accused her of having this perception, if not with everyone, then at least with him.  There were times when she believed he had the right of it.  The ball had been one of those times.  Shireen had been sure that Stannis knew what to expect of her when he asked her for the first dance, and indeed, had anticipated that she would not only deflect him to a Tully, but knew exactly which Tully she would try to ensure he would dance with.   She had been embarrassed when Lady Sansa defended her over the slight from Petyr Hardying, although she cared not the least at being slighted by him.  The act had impressed Stannis and Shireen knew for certain Stannis would not fight a match when he danced with the one of the Mormonts out of respect for Lady Sansa’s request that he pay attention to ladies without partners. 

Stannis would not fight the match, but he would do little to bring it about.  That was where she had her work cut out for her.  Devan would strongly encourage her to mind her own business and she would sweetly ignore him since she was also certain Stannis would not mind it too terribly if she did not . . . as long as he was not embarrassed by the result.  Lady Sansa had attentions from several that night and she was harder to read than most.  However, she had spoken to him more than was required both before and after the dance, and Shireen did not see her do as much to anyone else other than Ser Loras.     

Shireen had also had a more troubling observation at the ball.  Since Stannis had been ordered to dance by their princely cousin, and had walked away, he undoubtedly insulted Lady Cercei Lannister in the process by not tripping over himself to seek a dance from her.  Had Shireen not put two and two together, she still would have known something was amiss by the way Lady Cercei glared at him occasionally during the ball.  It had not been a glare in Ser Tywin’s eyes when he looked at Lady Sansa.  Shireen found that odd.  Everyone knew Ser Tywin only had two interests, money and Lady Cercei’s bed.  There was no possible inducement that would bring Stannis to marry Lady Cercei when she did not bother to even try to disabuse every one of the notion that she was in an intimate relationship with her cousin.  However, since Lord Lannister had loudly and vocally proclaimed to anyone who would listen that he would cut his daughter off without a penny to her name if she married Ser Tywin, it was believed Ser Tywin would seek a wealthy wife who would turn a blind eye to Cercei.  The Tullys were not wealthy enough to support more than one household.  If Ser Tywin did seek Lady Sansa’s attention this Season, it was in hopes of a dalliance or, at the minimum, some form of amusement from winning her affections only to crush them.  Shireen did not think Lady Sansa likely to fall prey to either, but it would be difficult to balance politeness and sending him packing if he did chose to call on her.   

To that end, Shireen had to ensure that she beat the Lannisters to making invitations, and thus, it was that Shireen was getting ready to call on the Tullys at an hour considered at the edge of being too early to pay a social call the day after such a ball.  She might have to invite all of the Tullys to have supper with them, and had already warned Beatrice, their cook.  Should that be the case, she would need to find a distraction for Lady Lysa.  Shireen strongly suspected the girl would not allow anyone other than herself to be the focus of attention for more than a fraction of a minute.  Plus, Stannis would not show to advantage if his teeth were grinding every second the young girl spoke, as Shireen was certain would happen. 

Shireen was less sure how to deal with Ser Loras.  She rather doubted he had a genuine interest, but he still might become an impediment, if not in reality, in theory.  Lady Sansa had spent most of her time at the ball in his presence.  Lord Hardyng was thankfully not going to be a problem, or rather, he would be a problem for Lady Catelyn, whom Shireen suspected had the interest of the new Hand of the Prince Regent. 

Yes, Stannis needed her help and he probably knew it, hoped for it, and possibly even expected it despite all Devan’s arguments to the contrary.  So, to that end, Shireen had called the carriage to take her the four blocks from The King’s High Street to Dragonstone Way where the Tully’s were renting this Season to extend an invitation to Lady Sansa for supper, as well as whoever else was necessary to ensure her presence.  She would prefer to walk the minor distance, but Stannis would make a fuss about her safety.  He might not have Steffon’s charm, but she could not ask for a more loving brother and she hoped Lady Sansa had the sense to realize that she could not ask for a better husband were she to search the breadth of Westeros.   


	6. Chapter 6

Kings Landing 1811  
Sansa Tully

Catelyn and Lysa were not yet out of their beds when Lady Shireen arrived to pay them a call at ten of the clock the morning after the ball.  Sansa had only been up an hour or so, which was unusually late for her.  If Lady Shireen was shocked or taken aback at not being greeted by all of the Tully ladies, she did not show it.  On the contrary, Lady Shireen seemed glad of it being the two of them and Sansa enjoyed the company of one her own age.  They spoke of the ball and Lady Shireen answered questions about the family associations and histories of people Sansa was aware of, but had little to no interaction with before last night.  Lady Shireen admitted she had limited contact with them as well, except that she knew much of them from her brother and sister living in King’s Landing.  Sansa found it odd that the Baratheon family was split between King’s Landing and Storm’s End, yet it was logical that the girl before her preferred the country life with only brief visits to King’s Landing.  She found much in common with Lady Shireen.  Even how they spoke of others with whom it was obvious they regarded with either suspicion or cautiously in a manner that was not impolite or could be considered gossip.  It was tone of voice or more about what they did not say.  From this rather implied lack of conversation, Sansa knew that Lady Shireen did not particularly care for Lady Cercei Lannister and while Sansa had little to no interaction with her at the ball, she found something disturbing in the woman’s countenance.  However, Lady Shireen did like Lady Oleanna Tyrell but she made the rather odd remark that while Lady Oleanna was quite beautiful and accomplished, she was too eccentric for her brother, Lord Baratheon.     

Lady Shireen also came bearing an invitation to sup at the Baratheon townhouse that evening.  Sansa expected that a family as important as the Baratheons would be invited to the card party being given by the dowager Lady Arryn.  Catelyn had been invited to attend as a guest of Lord Eddard Stark and was quite excited.   Sansa knew Lysa would only have been invited out of politeness.  Invitations given during the Season did not include ladies as young as Lysa, despite the whining her younger sister would do at being left to her own devices for the evening.  Still, Sansa knew she would enjoy an evening with Lady Shireen and her suitor, Lord Seaworth.  And she had to admit she had been rather impressed with Lord Baratheon by the end of the ball.  He seemed cold and arrogant at first and while he was not as handsome as Ser Loras or even his brother, Lieutenant Lord Steffon, she did find him handsome and found his dark features quite appealing.  More importantly, Sansa found herself oddly at ease with him.  There was something to be said for an individual with a reputation for frankness and honesty.  While Lady Shireen conveyed her true thoughts without being impolite, she suspected Lord Baratheon was completely transparent, but only rude to those who either gave him good reason or he observed being rude to those they had no business being rude to, such as Lord Hardying.  She would never want to be on Lord Baratheon’s bad side. 

Catelyn joined them just as Lady Shireen was preparing to leave.  It was then that Sansa realized that Lady Shireen’s visit had been chiefly to visit her and not necessarily the two of them.  Again, it was more about what Lady Shireen did not say rather than what she did.  She did not express regret that Catelyn had a prior engagement that evening, nor did she talk about an invitation in the future.  Instead, she politely, and honestly, said that she hoped Catelyn enjoyed her evening and that she was pleased that they would have Sansa’s company.  The young lady also volunteered to secure an invitation for Lysa to the family of Ser Rodger Edgerton who was in town with his family of eight, five of which were under the age of ten and five and for whom small parties were often arranged to keep them from bemoaning the same amount of activities their older siblings were engaged in.

Sansa had thoroughly enjoyed the visit and was a bit overwhelmed by the notion that a carriage was being sent solely for her that evening.  “They are a noble family with a royal association, but you should guard yourself from being monopolized by Lady Shireen,” Catelyn broke into her thoughts.  “The girl already has a suitor whose time is much occupied with the House of Lords, and she is using you to fill her time.  You should be looking for a husband instead and, of course, Lord Baratheon is out of the question.” 

Blushing a color that was in stark contrast to her hair, Sansa sputtered a reply, “I am not here to find a husband!”

“You should be,” Catelyn insisted, reclining on the settee.  “I noticed several knights at the ball considering you.  There are many knights in the realm with very comfortable homes and some with as much to recommend them in wealth and position as any lord.” 

It occurred to Sansa that Catelyn was suggesting that the best she could hope for as a husband was a knight, and while that may be true and was not even a requirement in Sansa’s mind, it rankled her that Catelyn felt she could secure a lord, and one as highly placed as Lord Eddard, while Sansa should not even attend a dinner at the home of a lord.  “What makes you believe you are more capable of securing a lord for a husband than I?”

The look Catelyn gave her was one she had perfected over the years that spoke _I know more than you because I’m older and more worldly_.  “As the elder daughter, my dowry will be greater than yours.  We have not the means for two proper dowries and no lord, especially one highly placed, will be induced to take an insufficient dowry just to marry.  A lord may hope that he will marry someone with whom he can find an accord, but it will not be his chief motivation.” 

Sansa started to object and use Lord Seaworth and Lady Shireen as an example of a couple who were together out of mutual regard, but Catelyn would only counter that, in marrying Lady Shireen, Lord Seaworth achieved an elevated station and would receive a handsome dowry that could even include land.  Their father had never discussed dowry expectations with her and Sansa had assumed, whatever was planned, would be evenly split.  It did not surprise her that Catelyn knew better; she would have made that knowledge a chief concern and quite possibly influenced how the monies would be split by telling their father she could secure a lord who would improve the Tully family position.   Indeed, given Catelyn’s ambitions, it could be considered remarkable that there would be a dowry for Sansa or Lysa at all.  Sansa loved her sister, but at this moment, she could not say she liked her all that much. 

Further discussion on the matter was interrupted by Myrian, the housemaid, announcing the arrival of Ser Tywin Lannister-Darry.  Both sisters exchanged expressions of astonishment as they stood in preparation to greet him.  When he entered the doorway, the tall, ginger-haired man bowed as they curtsied in turn.  Catelyn, as the eldest, took on the role of hostess and invited him to be seated in the wing-backed chair as they all sat.  Sansa found herself at a total loss.  _What was he doing here?_   Had they not been talking about the importance of a dowry and everyone knew Ser Tywin sought to marry someone with a large purse.  _Was he under the impression that Catelyn’s dowry was more than it was?_  

“I understand this is not your first season, Lady Catelyn, but that it is your first time in King's Landing, Lady Sansa.  What do you make of it?”  The timber of his voice was much like his features . . . the only word she could think of to describe it was a word she’d never used before, not even in thought . . . seductive.  Men with his hair and complexion were often too ruddy featured, yet there was no denying that Ser Tywin was elegant and attractive, while also having an air of dangerousness about him. 

“I find myself feeling a bit like a fish floundering in a lion’s den,” Sansa remarked, purposely making use of the ancient sigils of their houses.  She could see by his brief smirk that the reference was not lost on Ser Tywin. 

“A lion would be equally out of place in water where the fish would be more at home.  Where do you recommend the two might meet?”  he jested with his deep green eyes trained on her. 

Catelyn frowned at Sansa, letting her know she found her comment impertinent.  “My sister is more of a homebody, Ser Tywin.  For her first ball of the Season to be something as splendid as the Prince Regent’s Ball was quite overwhelming.”

The look Ser Tywin gave her sister in reply was unquestionably one of dismissal.  “Did you consider last night’s ball splendid, Lady Catelyn?  I found it rather ostentatious.”

“The Prince Regent would hardly agree, Ser Tywin.”  Catelyn replied defiantly.  Sansa couldn’t help being a touch amused by his taking her sister down a peg or two; however, it was rude and she did not approve of unwarranted rudeness. 

Neither did she approve of his trying to put her in the middle of this when he asked, “What did you think, Lady Sansa.  Ostentatious or splendid?”

It was odd that the image that entered her mind was of Lord Baratheon grinding his teeth at Lord Hardying as he tried to keep from dressing down his peer in a manner that would embarrass his sister.  “I merely enjoyed making new acquaintances,” was her noncommittal answer. 

Their guest merely shrugged, knowing it was time to change the subject.  “I understand you are going to Lady Arryn’s card part tonight, Lady Catelyn.  Lady Sansa, I was hoping you would accept my invitation to go as my guest.” 

Before Sansa could think of an answer, Lysa came into the parlor, curtsying to Ser Tywin and eyeing him with the dreamy look of a child wanting someone else’s play-toy.  He met her look with a knowing smirk and then trained his attention back on Sansa to await an answer. 

“Thank you for your invitation, Ser Tywin.  It was most polite of you to ensure both sisters were invited.  However, I am already engaged for the evening.” 

“Indeed,” came the laconic reply, followed by, “I am bereft I will not have your company this evening.”  His tone suggested he was merely annoyed. 

“I could go!” Lysa cried, finding her voice in the most embarrassing manner. 

“No you _CANNOT_ ,” Catelyn countered.  Sansa could tell her sister was trying to figure out how this had all gone so terribly wrong.  “You are not old enough for these types of events.  Your Season will come, but it is not _THIS_ Season.”

Sansa found the whole of this conversation and visit uncomfortable.  It was made more so when Ser Tywin pointedly looked for verification of where he believed her to be going.  “I hope you will not find it boring at the Baratheon’s.  He has little conversation beyond the business of the House this time of year.  Then again, I can’t imagine what his conversation would be in the Stormlands either.  Probably crops and tenant issues.” 

“Sansa has already made a particular friend of Lady Shireen and I am sure she will enjoy herself as their guest.” Catelyn supplied sharply. 

This brought a laugh with the smirk.  “Particular friend? I am not quite sure I know what kind of friend that is, My Lady.” 

Sansa had not wanted to confirm or deny his suspicions, but now she had no choice and she needed to stop Catelyn, who had already gone too far.  “Catelyn is being kind.  I do hope to be a good friend of Lady Shireen’s with closer acquaintance, but only she can determine that.  Based on our acquaintance so far, I find her most agreeable.”   

Ser Tywin’s impertinence knew no bounds.  “And Baratheon?” he inquired without consideration of the propriety of such a question or the absurdity that she would have much of an opinion to share of a gentleman she had met for the first time the night before. 

“I hardly know Lord Baratheon beyond one dance and a small amount of conversation.  However, from the conversation we did have, I found him very interesting.” 

“Did you, indeed!” Ser Tywin scoffed.  “Now there is a first.  But I can see that you find the question insolent and you are quite right to do so.  My manners are in sad need of training.  Perhaps if you are free tomorrow, Lady Sansa, you would allow me to take you for a ride in the afternoon and show you the sights of King’s Landing.  You may attempt to alter my manners as you see fit.” 

“I would like to go too,” Lysa blurted out.  Sansa was impressed she had held her tongue this long after Catelyn’s upbraiding. 

Normally, she would not give in to her sister and she duly noted that Catelyn did not attempt to call her down either.  “My sister is here with little to do, Ser Tywin.  Would you consent to taking the two younger Tullys for a tour of King’s Landing?”

To his credit, if he was irritated, he didn’t show it.  “I would be delighted.  And now I must leave you.”  They all rose from their seats.  “I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again this evening, Lady Catelyn.  Lady Sansa, Lady Lysa . . . until the morrow.” 

With that, bows and curtsies were exchanged.  By silent assent, Catelyn and Sansa did not speak of it again, knowing nothing they said in front of Lysa would be private, until they were dressing for their evenings out.  Sansa had a silk dress of her mother’s that she had made over, adding trim at the bottom to add to the length, as well as trims and some needlework to update the style and make it more suited to a lady her age.  It was not bad work for a made-over gown and she was not ashamed of it.  The deep emerald green with the new bits of dark green trim suited her complexion.  Catelyn was forced to wear another of her new silk gowns despite the hope that they could spread their wear out over the course of the Season and not wear them all at once, then have to repeat wearing them. 

“I could not be more disappointed in Ser Tywin’s behavior,” Catelyn remarked as Myrian arranged her hair.  “His arrogance was uncalled for.  Imagine the gall of referring to the Prince Regent’s party as ostentatious!”

Sansa could only smile.  “Yes, it was arrogant to say such to those of whom he has such little acquaintance, but I must agree with him.  Our entire region could probably live for the next twenty years on the money spent on last night’s ball.”

“It is not ours to judge,” Catelyn snapped.  “What was he doing here anyway?  When I spoke of knights courting you, I meant those who needed your family name more than your money.  He is neither of those.  This is a bad start, Sansa.  You are invited to the house of a lord who will not consider you and asked out riding by a knight everyone knows cannot take you seriously.  Both could lead to unsavory rumors.” 

It took talent to be able to put someone down the way Catelyn did.  Still, she had little to no expectations for this Season.  Making a friend like Lady Shireen would be an unexpected pleasure.  Because she had no expectations, Sansa didn't mind needling Catelyn just a touch.  “The only rumor I see is that the unlikely Tully sister seems to have attracted attention from two men not prone to showing such attentions.” 

Sansa saw her remark hit home as Catelyn’s jaw tightened in the realization that Sansa was getting more attention than she was.  Sansa was not one to flatter herself that this was true, but that Catelyn believed it was the more than flattering.  She _could_ remind her sister that it was Lady Shireen who arranged the dance, not Lord Baratheon.  He merely wanted a partner to appease the Prince Regent.  She _could_ also let Catelyn in on her suspicion that Ser Tywin’s interest was merely a smoke screen to make Lord Lannister believe he had given up on Lady Cercei.  No.  Let her sister think she was attracting men that Catelyn wasn’t and stealing the light, if only for a night or two.  Catelyn needed a bit of humility. 


	7. Chapter 7

Kings Landing 1811  
Stannis Baratheon

Stannis had been more than pleased to learn that they had not been invited to the Arryn card party.  It was a deliberate slight at his refusal to consider a marriage between Shireen and her younger son, Robin, last year.  Robin was known to find his pleasure by relations with other men and while that was of no consequence to him generally, it was when Lady Arryn suggested that Shireen was a good match for someone of that persuasion since she was not likely to attract another more viable suitor.  This was all unknown to his sister, whom he hoped believed the slight was about his personality, or lack thereof.  In a way, it was true.  Lady Arryn had deemed him a cad when he met her suggestion with a rather impolite suggestion of his own that involved her visiting every street in however many hells there happened to be.  There were times when he considered it his absolute finest hour.  Their mother had heard of it and wrote him a sharply worded letter that had also strongly encouraged him to insist Shireen accept the Arryn offer.  His reply to her was less offensive, but still as far as one could go in telling off one’s mother. 

That morning as he and Seaworth left for the first session of the House of Lords, he had offered to have dinner at the club dining room and allow Shireen and Seaworth a private dinner to themselves.  His offer received strong objections from Shireen and he noticed Seaworth looking a bit nervous.   While he did not see them as having an issue with being along together, he could have that wrong . . . although the difference in dinner at the townhouse where they were not completely alone because of the servants to the walks they took where they were completely alone along the shore at Storm’s End eluded him.

When they arrived back in time to dress for supper, he learned why his presence was insisted upon.  Lady Sansa Tully was to be their guest.  After last night’s ball, he thought perhaps Shireen hadn’t caught on to as much as he expected since she had not said a word to him about it.  Not that he expected her to tease him.  That would have been Seaworth’s office, although given that he was now aware of the depth of their relationship, it would not be the wisest move on his friend’s part. 

Dressing for supper, Stannis wasn’t sure how he felt about Lady Sansa joining them for the evening.  He had fought in battles where death was all around him, faced down enemies who were either trying to physically kill him or ruin him financially, given oratories in public forums, and he didn’t remember having as much fear in those instances as he currently felt at the prospect of sitting at the table making small talk to a young lady that gave him ideas he had never had before.  Sure, he had felt lust . . . that was the best explanation of his three months with Mel.  But he had never met any lady and thought _I want her to be the next Lady Baratheon_.    It was ridiculous because he was barely in close contact with the girl for a full hour in the course of the entire evening. 

By the time his clothes were changed and his valet, Colkyn, had ensured he was ready to meet the others in the sitting room, Stannis had talked himself into believing that the only proper course of action was to spend more time around Lady Sansa.  Certainly, given time, she would become less of an ideal and more like a lady of casual acquaintance, albeit a beautiful one, who sparked no special interest. 

Shireen and Seaworth were already seated side by side on a settee in the sitting room when he joined them.  The smile his young sister gave him was one of approval; her dress more formal than one of their normal evenings at home.  Shireen was waiting for his approbation at inviting Lady Sansa and would see not receiving it as his tacit approval to continue her efforts.  “My dear,” he began, wearing a stern scowl that caused Seaworth to give him a disapproving look, “you are free to invite whomever you wish to this house, but you are not free to expect that I wish to entertain your guests as well.  Had you told me, I would have remained at the club.”

Shireen gave him a look of mock sympathy.  “As I was returning home from errands after I visited the Tullys with the invitation to supper, I saw Ser Tywin Lannister-Darry leaving their townhouse.  You have competition, brother.  It’s possible he was there to visit Lady Catelyn, but it seems foolish for him to do so when he, as does everyone else in King’s Landing, knows Lady Catelyn is to be the guest of the Hand of the Prince Regent this evening at the Arryn card party.” 

It was a second before he noticed that this news made every muscle in his body tighten.  “And yet, Lady Sansa comes here this evening.”

“Of course.  My invitation was the first received and one as well-bred as Lady Sansa would not have sent regrets to accept another invitation.  It does not follow that he was not prepared to issue an invitation for a later date and that she would find such invitations difficult to deflect.”

Stannis heard his teeth begin to grind and made the effort to stop himself from continuing.  “He could have issued a later invitation to Lady Catelyn just as easily.”

Seaworth interjected rather than Shireen, “Ser Tywin is arrogant enough to take on you, Baratheon.  However, he is not ignorant.  He would not take on the Hand.” 

Stannis was prepared to object to the notion that, if it were true Ser Tywin was interested in Lady Sansa, it made them rivals.  He knew it was useless and would only provide entertainment for the other two.  His only hope was, that by the end of the evening, it was sincerely untrue and that his interest in the lady would have been minimized.  The butler announced Lady Sansa and Shireen and Seaworth joined him in standing as she came into the room.  The obligatory gestures were made before Shireen stepped forward and extended her hands to receive Sansa Tully’s.   He watched their greeting and felt his muscles tighten again.  He had never seen any creature as beautiful as Lady Sansa when she smiled. 

Seaworth was the next to speak to her.  “I am delighted you are joining us this evening, My Lady.”

“I am delighted to be here, My Lord.” 

It was his cue.  “Lady Sansa.”  The acknowledgement of her presence was the best he could manage. 

She faced him and he felt himself scowl in a perverse defense against the mere sight of her.  “Good evening, Lord Baratheon.  I trust you have recovered from the exertion of last night’s dancing?” 

 _Was that flirting?_   He was never sure of such things even when he observed it in others and decided it must be similar to Shireen’s teasing since their manner was much alike.  But given that, how was he to reply?  His only course of action was to treat it as if Shireen had made the comment.  “I assure you that the three dances I was privileged to have, even if that privilege was heavily encouraged and not anticipated, left me able to manage the walk to the House this morning.  Had I gone for four, it’s possible I would have had to engage the carriage or a hansom for hire.”

Stannis was quite proud of the answer since it received a widening of her already dazzling smile.  The two ladies were seated while he stood next to the fireplace in direct line of sight to the settee they occupied.  Seaworth took the settee opposite them.  “I saw Ser Tywin leaving as I rode by from errands this morning.  I realized he may have come bearing an invitation to the Arryn card party and apologize that we may have deprived you of the event.”   He rolled his eyes at his sister when assured Lady Sansa could not see him.   While he would argue that Shireen was adept at arranging things, this was close to manipulation and he realized that the only reason she had for this insincere apology was an attempt to see if an invitation was received and Lady Sansa’s response to it.

“His invitation was kind, but I assure you that I am far more pleased with having been received your invitation first,” came the measured reply.  “I would much rather get to know the acquaintances I am making than continually make new ones.”

Dinner was announced and before he could move, Seaworth had taken the few steps to the opposite settee and offered his arm to Shireen.  “I am sure Lord Baratheon reserves the right to escort our guest in to dinner.” 

There was something Lady Sansa found amusing as he did as he complied with what Shireen had undoubtedly set in motion and offered her his arm.  She rose from the settee and tucked her arm under his and there was an obvious gleam in her bright blue eyes.  His mind went first to acknowledging the delicate, flowery scent that he remembered from last night when he was close to her.  He needed a distraction and, again, noticed the amusement in her eyes.  “May one ask what is so diverting?”

“You are quite right,” she said, stiffening a bit.  “I do not know you well enough to presume that the idea of you objecting to having to avoid as much contact with someone who is little more than a stranger in your home is as I assumed.” 

“Your assumption would be right,” he owned, feeling a bit guilty that his inquiry may have been sharply worded.  “I am not socially adept.  It is no reflection on your company.” 

The light in her eyes returned and he felt her arm relax again as they approached the dining room.  “Our acquaintance is of short duration; however, I suspect you are as adept as you wish to be.” 

Stannis held out the chair for her and waited for her to be seated.  So far, his plan that more time with her would lessen his opinion was failing miserably.   His experience with women came in three forms, other than Shireen.  There were those who were shy of him, as though ready for him to strike them at any moment.  Those who were totally dismissive, which was not something he took personally but as an element of their nature.  Cercei Lannister was the first to come to mind.  And lastly, there were the ones who flirted and simpered in a manner that made it obvious they were vying to be Lady Lannister, not because of him personally, but because their families were insisting on it.  Selyse Tarly came to mind for that category.  He had to create a new, more complicate category for Lady Sansa. 

Shireen’s first choice of conversation was a bit of a surprise to him.  In other company, she had chided him for wishing to speak on events at the House, but now it was the first item she brought up by asking if the grain tax came to a vote.

“It brought about much grandstanding and little valuable debate or compromise,” Stannis answered her.  “I do not see a vote for at least two more sessions.”  He then focused his attention on Lady Sansa.  “Your father was one of the exceptions.  He was very eloquent in his objection to the tax.” 

This brought another smile.  “He is quite vocal in his opinion when at home as well.” 

“Do you agree with his opposition to the tax?” Shireen asked and drew an astonished look from Seaworth that caused him a great deal of amusement.  How did Seaworth not know that Shireen wouldn’t ask the question if she did not already know the answer and meant for others to know it as well.  In response to the look she received, she gave Lady Sansa an apologetic look, “I am sorry.  We talk a great deal of politics in this house.  Perhaps you are not comfortable in doing so.  I assure you that a difference of opinion is debated, but not offensive.” 

Lady Sansa did not look the least offended.  “Since I already know that both Lord Baratheon and Lord Seaworth share my father’s opposition to the tax, and that I too share his opinion, I hardly feel there is any danger in the conversation.” 

His interest was piqued.  “Why do you agree with your father?  Is it from a sense of loyalty to him, or do you truly have an opinion on the matter?” 

Once the words were out, he heard how confrontational they sounded.  Still, she was nonplussed.  “I do have an opinion.  My father looks at it from the landlord’s point of view.  His profits on sharecrops will be lower.  I look at it from the tenant’s point of view.  While both of you and my father have a reputation for doing the best they can for their tenants, it is not the case in even the majority.  Most of these tenants need every penny they currently have to make a decent life for themselves and their children.   I understand much of this is meant to offset the rebuilding necessary in King’s Landing after the fires and that the current debt to the Bank of Braavos is of chief concern.  We must pay our bills.  My opinion, for what it is worth, is that these bills can be paid by economy in some of our present excesses rather than a tax that affects the poorest of our country the most.” 

Lady Sansa’s speech was met with a huge smile from Shireen and Seaworth slapping his hand on the table and calling out, “Well said, My Lady!”

“Do you often talk of matters of politics with your father?” Stannis continued, wondering if some her eloquent speech hadn't been given to her from Shireen.  “For example, two years ago there was a bid to improve roadways that had a split opinion among the three of us.  Are you familiar with the debate and the result?” 

Despite the fact that she had to know she was being tested, Lady Sansa rose to the occasion.  “I am familiar and while my sisters tend to find such subjects items to be avoided, my father and I talked of it often and we had a difference of opinion as well.  My lord father felt the roadways should be improved at all costs to improve the ability to get resources from one part of Westeros to another.  I agreed that such an endeavor was worthy, but disagreed that the time was right.  Before we can improve our routes of trade, there has to be an increase in protection of the existing routes.  Why improve routes only to have the same amount of thievery with the ability to steal even more?”

Stannis was aware that he was staring and yet he could not stop himself.  This was horrible.  Not only was she beautiful, poised, and smelled nice, she was by all appearances kind-hearted and possessed an intelligence that was not singularly focused at herself.  If anything, this lady was too perfect and it challenged him to find her weakness even though he doubted it would do any good at lessening his increasing regard.  “And if it were those same hungry tenants seeking a better life who were the robbers on the road?”

Lady Sansa’s brow furrowed with thought.  “I don’t believe that to be the case, generally.  Certainly it isn't out of the realm of possibility that it happens.  At least I cannot imagine it in our tenant farmers as they work very hard and have most all of their children in the fields with them.  I could be in error, yet I have always believed the thieves to be combinations of those who will not work or cannot obtain work.  The latter of those two brings about other issues that also need to be addressed since there is work at the textile mills, yet conditions I have heard my father speak of for the one mill near Riverrun are dismal.  Do you know otherwise?”

All eyes turned back to him, two sets of which were enjoying themselves immensely at his expense.  Both Shireen and Seaworth would know he had not anticipated such a discussion from their guest, as well as the impact it would have on him.  “So you are suggesting that dismal conditions in the mills should excuse someone from resorting to robbery instead of working in them if they have no other option?”

His question turned Shireen’s expression from one of mirth to reproach.  Lady Sansa, however, did not flinch or deflect the question.  “Like much in life, it would depend.  If I had a family and my only options for feeding my children were thievery or taking my family to a place where I could feed them, yet they were not likely to live to see twenty from the amount of fever and sickness due to diseases in the water and spoiled food they are given to consume, I might consider the first option.  It is not honorable, but it might keep my children alive long enough for other options to present themselves.  When I spoke of options for thievery, I did not necessarily mean harsher punishment.  The problem is not so simple that there is one solution. “ Lady Sansa stopped and drew a breath, then her cheeks grew pink as she realized the fervor she put into her answer.  “You did ask for my opinion.”   

“And it was well thought and well said,” Shireen declared, “Although I’m afraid you might wish you were playing cards rather than being grilled by us.” 

“Oh no!” Lady Sansa spoke up quickly.  “I do not get to discuss these sorts of things often, despite thinking on them.   My lord father has no objection to his daughters having thoughts on political matters as is forbidden by some fathers.  That said, other than with my lord father when he can find the time, there is little interest or discussion to be had.”  Stannis knew and liked Tully well enough, yet he doubted Tully wanted no more from his daughter than an affirmation of his own opinions. 

The rest of the dinner was spent on conversation that was of much less interest to Stannis, but allowed him to observe Lady Sansa more.  Shireen spoke of the many types of events that were annually anticipated.  Lady Sansa did admit that Ser Tywin was taking both her and her younger sister on a tour of King’s Landing on the morrow.  Stannis was certain Ser Tywin did not invite the youngest Tully, and took heart in the fact that Lady Sansa saw fit to maneuver to have her sister as a chaperone with Ser Tywin, but did not feel the need among the Baratheons. 

After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room while Seaworth and he went out on the balcony and overlooked the town out of habit.  Seaworth did indulge in a glass of port and a cigar while Stannis stuck to water.  He thought the smell of a freshly smoked cigar was not unpleasant, but he remembered one of his father’s close friends who smoked them incessantly and the smell of stale cigar on him was so abhorrent, Stannis never could bring himself to try one. 

“You do realize Lady Sansa is the perfect wife for you, Stannis.  It is not just Shireen who thinks so.”  Seaworth proclaimed once he ensured they were out of earshot of the ladies. 

Stannis rolled his eyes at him and scoffed.  “One can hardly tell from such a brief acquaintance.  It took you years to form the regard for Shireen you expect me to harbor in less than two days.” 

“Did not,” Seaworth insisted, taking a pull on his cigar.  “It was the work of one day for me to realize she was no longer a child and that the woman she had become was nothing less than exceptional.  Time wasted after that was in believing such an exceptional creature too good for me.” 

“Very true . . . “  Stannis agreed, knowing his friend would take it for the ribbing that it was.  On a serious note, he added, “Did you actually court my sister and I did not notice?”

It was Seaworth’s turn to scoff.  “I was getting around to figuring out how to go about getting her to see me as a potential suitor rather than her brother’s lifelong friend when she practically asked me to tell her what I was thinking.  That comes from her having years of observing me to know a change was present.  You will not be as lucky, my friend.  You will need to court Lady Sansa and you will have competition.  If Ser Tywin is truly interested, it will be formidable competition.  Lannister might be paying him to stay away from Lady Cercei, or worse, offering to support his household if he marries respectably.  If that’s the case, he can be far more selective and while Blackfish is not an easy distance from Casterly Rock, it is an acceptable one for a man prone to having his cake and eating it too.” 

They stood in silence while Seaworth finished his port and cigar; Stannis barely touched his refill of water from dinner.  The easy thing for him to do would be to deny what he knew to be true . . . that he had the type of regard for Lady Sansa Tully that one builds on in making a match.  It would be foolish for him not to pursue it . . .pursue her regard . . . unless he wanted to follow in the footsteps of so many of his peers and marry for money and position.  He had more than enough money and the only power he wanted was to be able to effect change for the good of the Stormlands and the realm as a whole, and he had that as well through his seat in the House and the respect he held there.   The trouble was, he had no idea how to go about pursuing her and he couldn't imagine asking Shireen to tell him how.  Undoubtedly, she would keep on with invitations and trying to keep the two of them together, but would it be enough? 

At the end of the evening, the carriage was called for to return Lady Sansa back to the townhouse on Dragonstone Way.  Stannis considered going with her to ensure her safety, although his driver was more than capable and would not leave until he saw that she had entered the premises.  If he was seen in a carriage with her so late at night, even with the best of intentions, it would cause talk. 

Good-byes were said and Stannis extended his hand to help her into the carriage.  “My Lady, I hope you will be our guest often this Season,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly.  “You will receive many invitations and there may be ones you do not wish to accept, but find difficult to turn down.  Feel free to say that you have been invited here any time you wish to decline an invitation with cause.   You need only send word that you will be joining us.” 

Even in the darkness, the smile she gave him and the light in her blue eyes practically blinded him.  Perhaps he wasn't as clumsy at courtship as he thought? 


	8. Chapter 8

King’s Landing 1811  
Tywin Lannister

He would never admit it to anyone, but Tywin hated his obsession for his cousin.  Although he was more than ten years her senior, the initial seduction had been all her doing.  Truth be told, every time they lay together, she initiated it and every time it was over, he swore it was the last time.  Cercei was one of the most beautiful creatures he had every laid eyes on, and also the most selfish and self-absorbed.  She made him hate himself and, as such, he gave himself more and more reason to do so.  He, too, became self-absorbed and selfish just to give himself more cause for his self-loathing. 

Now, Cercei meant for him to leave her bed and make an attempt to court an innocent young girl to get even with a man who was too principled to offer for her in marriage and give her the pleasure of turning him down.  Sitting on the edge of the bed watching Cercei sleep, Tywin remembered his behavior in the Tully parlor the day before and realized how far he had debased himself.  Were he to obey Cercei’s wishes, it would not be the first time he ruined the reputation of a young girl for no reason.  It would, however, be the first time he made a nobleman’s daughter his victim and that his reason was more than his own lust. 

As he looked at Cercei, beautiful and seemingly innocent in her sleep, he was determined this was the last time.  Not only that, he would court Sansa Tully and win her not to ruin her but to marry her.  It would be difficult after his poor performance the day before, but he had an advantage.  He knew what many women did not know about themselves; they liked to believe they could reform a man.  He was certainly one is great need of reform and as long as Lady Sansa believed herself the author of his reform, she would continue and fall in love with that she considered her creation.  Only this time, he was ready to let her reform him.  As Lady Lannister-Darry, she would be a great success for having taking the well-known rake of the realm and making him respectable.  There was nothing to reform in Stannis Baratheon; nothing the Tully girl could hold up to society and claim as a great victory.  Cercei would make it difficult for both of them and he knew he would probably fail to avoid her bed entirely.  Despite that, he was determined to be a good husband. 

Later that afternoon, he took Sansa and her insufferable sister for a ride in his phaeton.  Tywin accepted it without comment when Sansa allowed the girl to sit beside him and chatter away like a magpie.  The chit let it be known he was the object of her childish infatuation and had no restraint.  At least the blushing done by Sansa Tully was because of her sister and not because of him.  Tywin did, however, use it to advantage.  When the ride was over and he had returned them to the smallish townhouse on Dragonstone Way, Sansa invited him in for refreshment and sent her sister upstairs, which caused a great deal of commotion before it was successfully accomplished.  Catelyn was reported to be spending the day with Lyanna Stark. 

“I hope you will accept my apology for my sister’s behavior,” Sansa began as they were both seated opposite each other in the parlor and she poured tea. 

Tywin took a deep breath and sat back, giving her a look he knew had caused more than one female heart to flutter.  “It is no more than I deserve after my boorish behavior yesterday.  Perhaps we can start again.”

Sansa made no comment, but gave him a small smile.  He rather liked that she was not one to cave easily to charm.   

He took a drink of the tea and setting it down, he tried again.  “Will you and Lady Catelyn be at the Assembly tonight?”

“Yes,” Sansa replied, absently rubbing a bit of her pink frock between her fingers.  “Shall you and Lady Cercei be there as well?”

Tywin raised an eyebrow, but stopped short of his trademark smirk.  “I know that my cousin and I are often spoken of together as if we were the twins heard about beyond the Wall whose bodies are joined at the shoulders.  Indeed, I do often accompany her to such events and undoubtedly will do so this evening.  However, I would very much appreciate it if you would save the first dance for me.” 

Her blue eyes widened and then her brow furrowed in the tiniest of frowns.  “I do not wish to antagonize your cousin.  If she is used to having you as her partner for her first dance, that is as it should be.  You would not want to leave her in want of a partner simply because no one will ask in expectation of her already having one.”

Not sure whether he had just been totally rebuffed or merely upbraided for bad behavior, Tywin decided to press on regardless.  “You are quite right, of course.  It would be unthinkable for me to abandon her thusly.  Cercei is quite demanding and would not be forgiving.  Would you then consider saving the last dance for me?” 

Sansa’s answer was not immediate and he could tell her first instinct was to reply in the negative.  What he wasn’t sure of was whether she was afraid of him and his reputation, afraid for her own reputation in his company, or had already formed an expectation of an offer from Baratheon.  The latter did not seem likely.  No one could be that certain of Baratheon this early, with the exception of his younger sister.  And accepting a dance at an assembly with him would not ruin anyone’s reputation at this point.  Indeed, he was still a much sought-after dance partner.   It was more likely she was afraid of him.  Still, all he could do now was await her answer. 

“Yes, Ser Tywin.  If my father does not require us to leave the Assembly early, I will be honored to be your partner for the last dance.”

“I’m the one who is honored,” he replied as humbly as it was possible for him to do.  “Will Lady Shireen be there?  I believe you and she have become friends.” 

Sansa took a sip of tea and laid the cup back into the saucer and put both on the table before her.  “I hope she will be, yet I do not know with certainty.”

“I have never had the pleasure of her acquaintance except for the briefest of greetings.  She has, however, appeared to me as quite agreeable.  Lord Seaworth has done well, although I am not quite sure their betrothal is official.” 

Talk of her new friend was an inspired choice on his part for Sansa seemed to relax for the first time.  “I have found her very agreeable and gracious.”

“Graciousness is in short supply in King’s Landing.  There is all the appearance of it and seldom the practice.” 

Sansa gave him a quizzical look.  “I do not understand.” 

 “King’s Landing can be a den of vipers, My Lady.  I’ve seen it convert the sweetest of young ladies to cynics and shrews, and young men with high ideals into callous fops.  You have a sweetness of spirit about you.  Do not let this place and the people in it take that from you.  There are many wolves in sheep’s clothing here.”  Tywin found that the speech he started as a means to flatter her was actually sincere.  He did not want this place to spoil her.  He wanted her trust and approbation and, oddly enough, he wanted to earn it.   “Do you believe that redemption is possible for those of us who have let this place change us?” 

And there it was.  The look a woman gave him when trying to discern whether he was being sincere or flippant.  “I believe a great many things, Ser Tywin, that I haven’t the experience to know whether they are true or not.”   

Tywin finished his tea.  “Thank you for your company this afternoon and I shall look forward to seeing you this evening.”  They both stood.  In his experience, most women would have given him her hand to kiss or at least bow over, but Sansa merely curtsied and accompanied him to the door. 

“It is I who thank you for the ride and tour of the city.  And again, I apologize for my sister.”

“Think nothing of it.  I’ve lost some of my sense of propriety and you were quite right in our having someone else with us even if the offer of the tour was well intentioned.  I will be more circumspect in future.” 

As Tywin left, he knew he had her very confused about what she thought of him.  Winning her over this soon was never in the cards.  It would be a slow process and he would have to be patient.  He had patience and there was one thing he could count on.  Baratheon would eventually bore her to tears no matter how agreeable she found his sister.  He could wait.  


	9. Chapter 9

King’s Landing 1811  
Stannis Baratheon

Never did he believe he would ever be part of the gossip of King’s Landing, with the exception of being inserted into it for some slight or being accused of being offensive to someone with expectations they should not have.  Stannis was met with barbs in the House about whether he should be seeing to whatever was being discussed or out on Dragonstone Way protecting his interests there.  Fortunately, he was quick-witted enough to deflect most of them.  What was galling was his not knowing whether they were right . . . whether he should be spending part of his days courting Lady Sansa and whether Ser Tywin had the upper hand for not having obligations of the House of Lords to prevent him from doing so.  Of some comfort was the fact that there were other sources of gossip and speculation.  One involved the rivalry between Ned Stark and Hardyng.  The only one of amusement was the rivalry between Lady Cercei Lannister and Lady Oleanna Tyrell for who was the most affronted at their station as the belles of the Season being upstaged by the Tully sisters. 

In the past fortnight, Lady Sansa had been their guest for supper four times, but always by Shireen’s invitation.  She did not take advantage of the invitation to use their house as a defense against unwanted invitations, or at least not to his knowledge.  Lady Sansa did spend some of her days while he was at the House with Shireen, yet Shireen said the lady had not sent word asking to visit or accompany her during the day in an effort to avoid Ser Tywin.  The pattern of the fortnight became Lady Sansa being a visitor at their townhouse in the evenings when there was no other social event she and Shireen would be attending.  Ser Tywin monopolized a good many of her days and Shireen could only do so much to mitigate it.  The city was abuzz with talk of both men showing interest, although for his part, the gossip was that he was making a poor effort of it and letting his sister do his work for him. 

Worse than the gossip was the realization that that last was entirely true and revealed something about himself he could only term _cowardice_.  Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, was afraid of looking a fool.   While he found dueling ridiculous, he was an equal match to Ser Tywin in all respects.  It would not come to that, of course, unless Ser Tywin did something unthinkable with regard to Lady Sansa.  Where he was not Ser Tywin’s equal was when it came to charm and appeal.  Lady Sansa smiled and laughed when he tried to be amusing; she listened as though she found his conversation engaging; and on those rare occasions when there was reason for them to touch, he had even known her to blush in a manner that let him know she was aware of what was going on . . . that she was not just a guest in their home because Shireen wanted to even the number at table or wanted her company in the evenings as well.  He was afraid of a young lady of eight and ten telling him she did not want him. 

Stannis could not fault Lady Sansa in her actions.   If he were any indication, she was not being given any firm grounds to declare for one candidate or the other.   Ser Tywin, like himself, was probably not willing to declare himself until he was sure of the outcome.  And there was still the possibility that his intentions were only to vex Lady Cercei at Lady Sansa’s expense.  This possibility annoyed Stannis, yet he couldn’t totally credit it.  He didn’t particularly care for Ser Tywin, but he didn’t totally disregard him either.  In the Battle of Gull Town during the invasion of the Norvoshi, where they both commanded armies in the action, the man had proven himself both brave and an excellent strategist and tactician.  That fact was not particularly comforting at the moment.  Stannis had always thought his royal uncle negligent in not giving the man lands of his own for his service. 

Tonight was another of the seemingly unending series of parties that go on this time of year, ones that, before this year, he had never attended.  Shireen indicated that it was required upon them to host one, which also meant staying in King’s Landing longer than he had originally planned.  He knew she was right.  During Seasons past, their mother planned one lavish Baratheon party and all he had to do was open his purse and show up.  He knew Shireen capable of limiting his involvement to the same, but there would be the added pressure of the current rumors and knowing all of King’s Landing would be eager to come and watch events unfold.   They would be watching tonight at the house party of Lord and Lady Rykker. 

As they left for the Rykker party, Shireen informed him that she had taken care of securing his first dance by sending a note meant to be from him requesting the honor of Lady Sansa’s first dance.  It was something that had never even occurred to him to do.  In fact, he had to ask Shireen if this was something normally done.  Shireen’s reply that she wasn’t sure herself, but it seemed the only way to ensure Ser Tywin did not get there first.  He also learned that his sister knew how to emulate his penmanship and when he questioned her about why she felt compelled to learn such a craft, she merely smiled at him and said she had always known it would have very practical applications.  Regardless of whether such a request was seemly or not, it seems that that Lady Sansa had sent a reply that she would be honored to have the first dance with him.  Through the entirety of the conversation in the carriage, Seaworth sat by Shireen and smirked at Stannis, thoroughly enjoying his friend’s discomfort. 

The Tully’s were already at the party when they arrived.  Lady Sansa stood flanked by Ser Tywin and Lieutenant Tyrell, with Lady Selyse, Hardyng, and Tully in the group.  Stannis was able to discretely observe her before she noticed their party.  She did not look displeased to be in Ser Tywin’s company; neither did he see the smiles that were often on display when she was at his home.  The lieutenant seemed to be telling some story while Ser Tywin looked bored, but stood firmly planted at her side.  The others seemed fully engaged in whatever the tale being told was. 

When Lady Sansa did notice their arrival, she smiled when their eyes met; a smile that reached her eyes.  Ser Tywin noticed the change in her and looked down at her, then to Stannis.  He acknowledged his rival with a nod and a smirk.  Stannis would have glared back at him, but was afraid Lady Sansa would believe he was glaring at her.  The best he could do was nod back in acknowledgement and hope he had a chance to talk to her between their dance and the next where he would undoubtedly have to relinquish her to another partner. 

“You need to tell her your intentions,” Shireen whispered to him as they walked further into Maegar’s Hall, named for the holdfast in the old Red Keep despite being miles from the King’s Palace or the area where the original Maegar’s Holdfast had been. 

Stannis would normally obfuscate by asking her to specify for him exactly what she thought those intentions were or that he himself wasn’t certain about them.   It was pointless.  “If I declare, her father will encourage her to accept me simply because I have the lands and wealth for the better match.  I do not want her to accept me on those terms.  Besides, we have only known each other for less than a fortnight.  That has been the sole of her acquaintance with Ser Tywin as well.” 

It was Seaworth who countered.  “You know as well as we do that the Season makes quick work of these matters.  Most of the betrothals of the Season are announced within the first month.”

“Which begs the question on whether you, too, will be formally betrothed by the end of this Season?”  It was out before he thought better of it, and not at all to his credit.  Before he could recind the question, he saw his sister and his friend laugh together as if it was a great joke.

“Brother, we have been betrothed for quite some time now.  We merely wish to wait to make it formal until we’re settled the matter of when to have the wedding in our minds.  And before you ask, it is my doing to presuppose your answer.  Devan has long wanted to formally ask you for my hand.”  Shireen supplied. 

Seaworth was quick to add, “And your having a lady wife to act as mistress for Storm’s End would ease Shireen’s mind a great deal about leaving.”

Stannis had already worked that out, although Shireen would not wish him to make just anyone the next Lady Baratheon any more than he would.  His sister put her hand on his arm, “I want you to be as happy in your choice as we are with ours.” 

At the supper portion of the party, Stannis was seated next to Lady Selyse Tarly while Ser Tywin had obviously exerted some influence to ensure he sat next to Lady Sansa.  It was easy to let Lady Selyse drone on and on about her belief that the House did not do enough to ensure that Westeros acknowledged R’hllor as the one true god.  She was not the type to require any response to her speeches.  He was able to survey who was present and who wasn’t.  He was aware his brother, Steffon, would be absent due to a military obligation, and he had heard that the Prince Regent had declined and forced Lady Lyanna to do so as well due to some other social pursuit.  However, noticeably absent were Lady Cercei and Hardyng.  Of course, no one could imagine them somewhere together.  Anyone who watched Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard this evening would know Hardying was clearly out of the running for her affections.  Stannis fully expected that one of those early betrothal announcements would be for this pair.  While he utterly despised Hardyng, he could not help but have a small measure of sympathy for the man given his current situation.  Hardyng had seemed totally besotted with Lady Sansa’s sister, and Stannis suspected he would not shrug this disappointment off easily.  Lady Cercei’s absence was more difficult to address.  It was surprising that she would leave the field so readily to an opponent for Ser Tywin’s affections.  That she did left Stannis all the more troubled about Ser Tywin’s intentions and that Cercei may somehow be involved. 

Later, as the musicians warmed up, Stannis finally approached Lady Sansa.  “I believe I have the pleasure of the first dance,” he announced as he bowed and received her curtsy. 

Before she could speak in reply, Ser Tywin quipped.  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you dance as much as you have this Season, Baratheon.  Did the Prince Regent order you to dance the entire Season?” 

“There was just the one order,” Stannis said, feeling his jaw clench at being challenged. 

“And you should be grateful to Prince Robert, Lady Sansa interjected, obviously trying to circumvent the possibility of a war of words.  “For it is now known that dancing is another of your accomplishments, My Lord. Shall we?”  She ended by extending her hand in anticipation of his arm to lead her to the dance floor. 

If he was a suspicious man, and he most assuredly was, he suspected that Ser Tywin had something to do with the choice of dance for the first dance.  It was decidedly new and not one of the older standards that decorum usually dictated was chosen for the first dance.  Fortunately for him, it was a dance that was new to a great many of those on the dance floor, including Lady Sansa, and after a painful five minutes where many were dropping out, the musicians stopped the dance and, with apology, announced another more common reel. 

“That was diverting,” Lady Sansa laughed as they were close enough to talk in one of the passes. 

“You have now discovered one of the reasons I do not dance often.  I haven’t the time to keep up with the latest,” he replied, trying to cover his annoyance at the notion that Ser Tywin had something to do with it.  He and Lord Rykker were of close acquaintance and only a short time earlier, Stannis had been considering what an excellent tactician his rival was. 

“So it would seem for a great many of us,” she replied with a smile.  “Do they not usually call out the steps of a new dance?  At least that is how it is done in the Riverlands when a fairly new dance is introduced.”

Stannis was not able to answer her right away as they were moving outside of their alternate side of the line to come around and meet at its head.  “It is as it should have been done here.  I have a confession to make  . . . “ he started, but was unable to finish based on the next step in the dance. 

When they were next able to speak, she met him with an amused look.  “Are you about to confess that you did not send the note I received this morning asking for the first dance?”

That was exactly what he was going to confess.  “While I have yet to see it, I am told my sister’s version of my hand is quite remarkable in its likeness.  But then again, you would not know my hand, or would you?”

“I would not,” she assured him in the next pass, her eyes filled with merriment.  “It was not something I could imagine you doing unless prompted.  And if you had been coerced, I imagine it would have been no more than one sentence to ask the question itself.” 

Stannis was a bit alarmed.  It had never occurred to him to ask Shireen what she wrote in this missive; he had been certain her chief objective would have been to make it sound entirely plausible it came from him.  As such, it would have been as Lady Sansa expected.  “What was in this note?”

“Three whole sentences,” she informed him with mischievous smile.

He could only roll his eyes.  “My sister grossly overplayed her hand,” then he added as soon as he was able.  “I would have sent my one sentence had she recommended it to me, however, I would have considered it a brazen thing to do if I had thought of it on my own.  You were kind in not calling her out in your reply.”

“Had I done that, I might have had to refuse the request and I had no wish to do so.” 

Stannis could only believe that he was receiving encouragement from her; she did not strike him as one to trifle with anyone for sport or amusement.  They did not speak again until the dance was through and he was escorting her off the dance floor. 

Looking around, he realized he would not have much time before either her next partner or Ser Tywin joined them.  Once he had them to a place where he could look at her squarely so that she could see the seriousness in his expression, he began a course of action that was probably not prudent, but had his usual frankness.  “My Lady, there are those that have upbraided me for my lack of skill at courtship.  They contend that I should leave matters of the House during this important month of debates and rulings, and make a greater attempt at ensuring you know my intentions.”

If she found his boldness offensive, she did not show it.  Instead she met his statement with a question.  “From what I believe, that would be very unlike you . . . leaving the important work of the House for your personal interests . . . would it not?”

“Yes, it would,” Stannis affirmed, wondering if she was relying on reports of him or her own personal observations. 

“Then you would be acting out of character and someone who you truly wanted to know you would not know your true character by such an act.”

“That is inarguably true.”  _Did she just assert that she wanted to know his true character or was she dismissing him because of his character?_

His bemusement must have been evident for she looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes in a manner that could only be interpreted as sincerity and affirmed, “Lord Baratheon, I promise you that, despite all counsel to the contrary and any pressure exerted to do otherwise, I will not make any rash decisions this Season.  If you earnestly wish to get to know me and for me to know you, there is time for that after you do the work you came to King’s Landing to do unless you leave straightaway for Storm’s End at the end of the month.” 

There was a part of him that wanted to tell her he had no wish to wait.  Every time he was in her company, he grew more sure of that fact.  Yet, she was correct that this was the decision of a lifetime and required time to make properly.  “My Lady, I have always been suspect of perfection.  Please tell me you have a flaw that I will discover so that I may not find myself so in awe of you that I will continue to consider myself unworthy of your attention.” 

Lady Sansa blushed slightly, but answered him easily.  “My flaw, My Lord, is that I have my own opinions and can be steadfast in keep to them.”

“I hardly consider that a flaw,” Stannis stated, noting out of the corner of his eye that her second dance must be with Lieutenant Tyrell for he was almost upon them.  No one would accuse him of being much of a conversationalist, but he wished there was some way they could both leave and talk the rest of the night away in this fashion . . . frank discussion with a mix of the occasional flirtatious remark. 

“You may want to wait until we vehemently disagree in an opinion before you make that determination,” she whispered before turning to greet Lieutenant Tyrell.    


	10. Chapter 10

King’s Landing 1811  
Sansa Tully

Sansa had promised Stannis Baratheon that he would have time to get to know her, and she was certain they both understood it to mean that he would have time to court her after the month of the Season’s House of Lords sessions concluded.  Sansa genuinely liked Ser Tywin.  He had a droll sense of humor and a rapier wit, and he could look at you in a manner that made you want to melt into the floor.   While Ser Tywin did not leave her unaffected, nothing he said or did summoned the feeling the smallest look of approval from Lord Baratheon invoked in her.   Ser Tywin’s talk of his association with her improving his character made her uncomfortable, as if she were responsible for its upkeep somehow.  Lord Baratheon’s character was as it ever was and required no alteration or upkeep. 

Catelyn still spoke against both Ser Tywin and Lord Baratheon, although less so about Ser Tywin who made an effort to court her entire family.  Sansa was not unaware of the gossip swirling around them.  How could she be when Lysa felt compelled to repeat everything she heard and she listened for the sole purpose of being able to repeat it?  Some of the gossip claimed Ser Tywin would gain a handsome reward from Lord Lannister were he to marry anyone other than Lady Cercei.  This rumor seemed to satisfy Catelyn that Sansa would have a modest home that would not rival the one she would have were she to marry Lord Eddard Stark.  Her lord father favored Lord Baratheon, claiming there were no rumors required to know what he had to offer.  Lysa also favored Lord Baratheon as she had dreams of her own about Ser Tywin still being a single man who would want to court her when her first real Season approached.  

The members of her family all had their opinions and preferences for their own reasons.  If she had to admit to a preference today, it would be for Lord Baratheon.   Yet, it was not a decision she was completely sure of.  They had yet to spend time where the two of them were alone or hold a conversation for a length of time longer than a dance without others.  Ser Tywin often found occasion to put his hand on the back of her waist, offer his arm, and offered his hand to assist her.  It left her unaffected.  Lord Baratheon had given her his hand to assist her into the carriage they always sent for her when she was their guest and offered his arm when leading her to and from those few dances they had.  On those occasions when she put her hand in his, she felt a rush of sensation that started from the top of her head to her toes.   Sansa had not been prepared for that feeling, or for the thoughts that came with it.  Still, as exciting as those feelings and thoughts were, they were not enough to make one decide to spend the rest of one’s life with someone.  At least that was what her lady mother and septa had told her. 

Tonight she would be a guest in the Baratheon home.  One person Sansa could say that she truly adored was Lady Shireen.  She had seldom been in the company of someone as considerate.  After the first supper she attended at the Baratheon townhouse, Lady Shireen had suggested that she not worry about wearing her silk frocks.  The excuse she made was, of course, made up and Sansa could barely remember what it was because she was so overwhelmed by the generosity of spirit at attempt to spare her feelings at her inability to match her friend in their wardrobe.  Since then, every dinner at the Baratheon’s saw Lady Shireen, or Shireen as she had also insisted that Sansa dispense with the formality of using her title, wearing muslin gowns.  If the two lords present noticed, they did not comment.  Catelyn had much to say on the subject, but that did was not her concern. 

There was a slight difference in Lord Baratheon this evening.  He seemed a bit more relaxed and joined in on the good-natured ribbing he was given about his sister having to claim dances for him.  Lord Baratheon countered it with ribbing about a sister who would stoop so low as to attempt to counterfeit her own brother’s pen although it probably was not as accurate as she led him to believe.   “Be that as it may,” Lord Baratheon quipped, “Lady Sansa and I have a code so that she will know when she receives something from me.” 

Sansa played along, assuming he was referring to her notion that he would only write one sentence were he to ever send her a note of any sort.  After supper, Shireen and she played and sang duets on the pianoforte with Lord Seaworth joining in with a rich baritone while Lord Baratheon served as their audience.  It was the sort of evening she had always dreamed of having as an adult and far preferable than lavish parties where you felt you had to worry about your gown, gesture, and comment or suffer the consequences of being the subject of tomorrow’s gossip. 

Unlike other evenings when she had been their guest, this evening, she was told good-bye at the door by Shireen and Lord Seaworth, and only Lord Baratheon followed her out to the carriage. 

“Thank you for a very pleasant evening, Lord Baratheon” she said as they stood at the door of the carriage. 

There was a husky quality to his voice as he asked, “At what point may I ask you to refer to me as Stannis rather than Lord Baratheon?  I notice you have dispensed with Shireen’s title.”

She hoped the street lamps did not provide enough light to make her blush visible.  “In this particular case, I believe the rules of order are a bit more stringent.  I should have referred to your sister by her title when in your company and kept to the use of her given name only when we were in private.”

“I am quite sure she would not have approved of that.  Would it be too confusing to ask you to call me Stannis when we are in private?” 

Feeling the heat in her cheeks grow hotter, Sansa could only assume her blush was plainly visible to him.  “We are never alone, My Lord.”   

His eyes seemed to darken somehow and he kept them trained on hers as he informed her in almost a whisper.  “We are alone now.” 

Sansa was ready to protest that the driver was before them, but she knew the carriage driver was trained to at least give the appearance of not hearing except when spoken to directly.  She found herself lowering her voice to match his.  “Then we shall be Stannis and Sansa to each other on these rare occasions.” 

Totally mesmerized, Sansa could not look away from him and had no idea how long they just exchanged this intense scrutiny of each other’s expression before he finally blinked and said, “Good night, Sansa.,” as he offered her his hand to assist her into the carriage.

Putting her hand in his, she felt that now familiar rush of sensation and it made her blush all the more.  “Good night, Stannis.”  As she took one last look at him, she could hear her heartbeat racing. 

She was grateful for the cool night air on the brief ride back to Dragonstone Way.  Upon arrival at their rented townhouse, their housemaid opened the door for her and she heard the carriage driver call to his horses and ride off.  “Am I the first one to return this evening, Myrian?”   

“Yes, M’Lady,” the girl answered in her thick Riverlander smallfolk accent.  “Ye've received ah note,” she added looking a bit sheepish as she handed Sansa a folded piece of paper.  The girl was trying not to giggle.

 _How could he have delivered this so quickly?_   Sansa thought, trying to remember whether Lord Baratheon . . .Stannis . . .  had disappeared during any part of the evening where he could have had his driver deliver this message and have it waiting for her.  He might have done so while she and Shireen were engaged in one of their duets and she did not notice. 

Sansa felt the same sensation rush through her body as she had when their hands touched as she opened the note, which was folded in half and bore no seal.  Inside was one line:  _Meet me outside in the garden._   There was no signature and Sansa was perplexed by its contents.  Here it was . . . a one-sentence note just as had been jested of earlier.  In point of fact, it wasn’t even a proper, full sentence.  And that he was out in the back garden?  Had he followed them and how did he get between the row of townhouses that flanked this one?  What was his purpose in this?

As she collected herself and walked toward the back of the townhouse to go out of the Dornish-style doors and into the small garden, she realized there could only be one purpose for such a late night visit.  Stannis must have decided not to wait until after the sessions of the House were over to ask her to marry him.  There could be no other reason and she was not the least bit certain what her answer would be.  She did not want to say _No_ , but neither was she ready to give him the _Yes_ she expected she would be able to give with greater confidence in the matter of a few more weeks of acquaintance. 

Steeling herself, Sansa opened the twin doors and walked out once again into the night.  Only it was not Stannis Baratheon who was awaiting her there. 

“Good evening, Lady Sansa,” drawled Ser Tywin lazily as he leaned against the great oak tree.  The moonlight being the only thing allowing him to be barely visible. “I trust you had a pleasant evening with Lady Shireen?”  


	11. Chapter 11

King’s Landing 1811  
Tywin Lannister-Darry

Tywin had anticipated that Sansa would not be entirely pleased with his requesting to see her at such a late hour.  He was a little annoyed at having had to wait the better part of two hours, having assumed she would leave the Baratheons shortly after supper.  Tywin could not imagine what sort of entertainment would go on in that townhouse other than the talk of politics.  Of course, unlike Cercei, he could imagine Sansa would politely endure it all. 

For himself, Tywin was far more interested in the politics of the realm than he let anyone know.  When Lord Estren of Wyndhall in the Westerlands was hanged for treason, King Renly had supported making him the new lord of Wyndhall.  It was well known his father’s first cousin, Lord Lannister, had opposed the appointment and as he was the Warden of the West, he had the clout to change the King’s mind.  Many had speculated on what caused Lannister to hate one of his own family and much of the speculation was correct in that it had to do with Cercei.  What they did not know is Lannister was not punishing Tywin as much as he using him to punish her.  Lannister found it easier to make it so that Cercei could not have what she wanted most by ensuring Ser Tywin was not financially able to support her on his own in the style she would insist on.  Cercei knew nothing but excess in everything she did and it was not lost on him that her desire for him had probably endured because she couldn't have him and live as she wanted too . . . and despite knowing all of that, he had continually been a moth to her flame.  Tywin hoped that would end this night.   

“Good evening, Lady Sansa,” he had greeted, trying to mask his concern at her obvious surprise at finding him there.  She obviously thought she was coming out to see someone else, and he could only assume it was Baratheon.  Tywin decided it might only be because Sansa had just come from their townhouse.  “I trust you had a pleasant evening with Lady Shireen?”

The moonlight illuminated her, while the tree foliage from the great oak shielded the light from illuminating him.  And he could clearly see her agitation.  “Ser Tywin, it is most improper for you to be here at this time of night when none but our servants are at home.” 

He had anticipated this reaction.  “My Lady, I have just come from visiting Lord Lannister.”

“I did not think him to be in town?”

“My cousin arrived this morning,” Tywin continued, moving away from the shadows and standing close to her.  “I met with him earlier this evening and we came to an arrangement.  I could not wait to tell you about it.” 

Sansa tugged at her lip nervously.  “Ser Tywin, this can surely wait until morning!”

“No, My Dear . . . it cannot.”  Tywin reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. 

She stepped away from him.  “It must.  Whatever you have to say, it is inappropriate for it to be said now.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her.  “You came out here thinking I was Baratheon,” the tone of his voice grew menacing as he grew angry.  “You would not be sending Baratheon away.”

Sansa met his tone with defiance and stared back at him.  Tywin could swear she was trying to imitate Baratheon in her attempt to scowl at him.  “That is not your concern.”

Cercei would have provided an answer meant to humiliate, regardless of whether it was true or not.  From Sansa’s answer, he could not tell whether she would have eagerly met Baratheon.  He tried to remember.  No . . . she came out the door not as a woman eager to meet a lover or even a suitor.  She had the look of one confused. 

“I’m here to ask you to marry me, Sansa.  I do not have a large manor house, but neither is Darry a small cottage.  Until now, all the income was required to maintain the property and pay the rest of my father’s debts.  Lannister has agreed to pay off the remainder of those debts and to replace the income denied me by his not granting me the income and lordship of Wyndhall.”

Tywin knew he did not have to tell her the terms of his cousins’ newfound generosity.  “I am quite sure you know of my past with Cercei.  It is in the past.  I am ready to offer you a good home, and to cherish you as my wife.” 

Her expression could only be described as shock.  “Ser Tywin . . . you do me a great honor.  I did not mean to . . . I . . . I . . . “

“You have allowed my attentions these past weeks,” he insisted, knowing it wasn’t really fair.  He made it difficult for her to ignore them and while she had always been polite, she was never encouraging.  But he still could not believe she would choose Baratheon over him, not if he was able to provide for her.  There were ladies in King’s Landing who would choose Baratheon because he had the larger property, more prestigious title, and greater income.   However, he had not expected Sansa Tully to be impressed by _more_.    

Tears filled her eyes and he felt like a cad.  “If I did, I did not mean to do so.  In the first weeks, we were getting to know one another and I truly do value you, Ser Tywin.  I have enjoyed your company and perhaps it was wrong of me to do so after I knew that . . . we will not suit.”

“May I ask why?”  He heard the edginess creep back into his voice.  Sansa was too distraught to be intimidated by it.   Truth be told, it intimidated most all men he directed it too when angry or trying to give a show of strength, but few women. 

Sansa gazed up at him sympathetically.  “For many reasons, the first of which is that you still desire Lady Cercei above me and all others.”

“I tell you it is not true!” he spat back at her angrily, but with full realization that he was not hurt by her rejection.  It was merely a matter of ego.  After lowering himself to ask Lannister for the crumbs from his lavish table, to have this chit of a girl turn him down was insufferable.  He was not Cercei; he did not demand he get everything he wanted out of sheer force of will, but he had actually worked to earn Sansa’s affections.   He was about to say something cutting to salvage his wounded pride when he, again, noticed her tears.  Instead, he took a breath and asked, “Is this no your final decision or may I continue to try to change your mind?”

She tried in vain to wipe away the tears that escaped those captivating blue eyes to flow down her ivory cheeks.  “My lady mother once told Catelyn and me that while she loved our lord father with all her heart, she remembered her first Season and being courted by Ser Elis Arryn.  She told us how handsome he was and how charming, but that she felt she would always be in his shadow and never truly by his side.  My lady mother admitted, however, that she would occasionally look back on that Season and fondly remember being courted by one of the handsomest men in all of King’s Landing that Season.  I think that is the way I will always think of you, Ser Tywin, and like my lady mother . . . I will smile at the memory.” 

With that, Tywin knew he was defeated.  Cercei would laugh uproariously and her father was sure to tell her before he could circumvent it, but at the moment, he couldn't be bothered.  He was envious of Baratheon and wondered if the man truly knew his good fortune. 

“Come,” she said quietly.  “Walk with me through the house.”

Tywin followed her realizing once inside that the maidservant who had let him in must have been watching from the window from the moment Sansa stepped outside.  “How do we go from here?” he asked just before he reached for the door handle. 

Sansa smiled at him, although tears were still present.  “You may not wish to call as you have been and it would not be prudent for you to call as often if you did; however, I will always welcome you.”

He took a deep breath, trying to salvage some dignity.  “I may still have the pleasure of a dance at any of the remaining balls of the Season?” 

To his surprise, she placed a hand on his arm and stood on her toes, leaning upwards toward him.  Instinctively, he bent down to her and received a light kiss on his bearded cheek.  “I would like that.” 

With that, she stepped back and he knew it was time to open the door.  Tywin walked out into the night a disappointed man, although one not sure what he was disappointed about.  No, he did not love Sansa Tully and while he was piqued at now having to tell Lannister his plans would not be realized, that was annoyance, not disappointment.  As he walked, Tywin realized the disappointment came from not having been able to love one such as her.  Sansa had been right . . . he loved Cercei and Cercei Lannister was not a woman he could be proud of loving.     


	12. Chapter 12

King’s Landing 1811  
Shireen Baratheon

The news would be filtering throughout King’s Landing and was brought to Shireen’s attention by Cook after she saw the commotion on her way back from picking up supplies at the early morning market and learned its cause from a distraught houseboy lingering outside the Lannister townhouse.   Upon delicately questioning her, she realized Cook must have heard the servant correctly and the scene she described would be one of such chaos.  While she hoped it was not true, Shireen knew she needed to both get to the Tully townhouse and to send for Stannis to join him there.  This was one day she was going to have to insist he leave House sessions, if sessions did not close for at least a day out of respect. 

Shireen was glad she was already dressed, and sent for the carriage straightaway.  She had the driver take her by the Lannister townhouse on the way to Dragonstone Way and she could see that, indeed, something was going on by the gathering of people outside.  Just before she passed completely, she recognized Magistrate Kettleblack, the head magistrate of King's Landing, coming out of the front door.  If this involved on of the Lannister's serving staff, the head magitrate would be less likely to be the one to respond to a summons.

Both Sansa and her older sister were at breakfast when she arrived.  Due to the hour, their housemaid was perplexed about whether to let her in until she stressed that she had some urgent news she needed to tell her mistress. 

“Shireen!  What is it?” Sansa said with alarm as she stood from the table where they were having breakfast when Myrian brought her to the room.  Shireen could only assume her distress was evident on her face.  At least she would be the first to tell them and, with any luck, she would be apologizing for alarming them unduly later if it was found to be untrue. 

“Please,” Shireen started, unsure where to begin now that she was here, “May we all sit and I will tell you the news I have heard this morning.”

Sansa and Lady Catelyn sat and she took the chair to the left of her friend.  “Cook returned from the market this morning to find an unusual scene outside of the Lannister townhouse.  She stopped when she saw one of the houseboys in tears and made inquiry.”  Shireen stopped for a moment.  It was difficult to say what she must.  “Cook was told that Lord Lannister was found murdered this morning.”

“Lord Lannister is not in King’s Landing,” Lady Catelyn interjected.

“I had heard he was due to arrive for the last week of sessions.” Shireen continued, turning to face Lady Catelyn.  “It is quite possible he arrived in the last day or two.” 

 “How horrible,” Sansa asserted and then asked, “Was it a thief that Lord Lannister caught in the act?”

Shireen bit her lip, wishing she could avoid what she was going to say next.  “Mind you, this is our cook relaying what she heard from the houseboy, although I did see Magistrate Kettleblack leave the Lannister townhouse.”  The words were so difficult to say, “The houseboy told Cook that Ser Tywin and Lord Lannister had words yesterday and that there was shouting involved.  He implied that Ser Tywin is, at present, the primary suspect.  I do not know any more than that and I take no pleasure in the report of it.”

Sansa’s face grew pale, but it was Lady Catelyn who spoke first.  “Your association with Ser Tywin will be the ruin of us!” she hissed at her sister. 

Shireen was not pleased by the comment.  “Most of the nobles in King’s Landing have a close association with Ser Tywin.” 

“They weren’t receiving his attentions despite knowing he had no real intent!” she declared angrily. 

Sansa started to speak, but stopped herself.  Shireen’s heart went out to her.  “I have sent word to Stannis asking that he meet me here.  I hope you do not mind.”  There was a bit of truth to Lady Catelyn’s assertions and Stannis being present would imply that Sansa preferred him.  It was immaterial whether it was true or not, although Shireen hoped it was the case.  Right now, Sansa needed friends and allies to protect her from the throng of gawkers who would be at her doorstep within the hour giving feigned sympathy and hoping to have something to gossip about.  “May I suggest that you instruct your maid to tell anyone other than my brother or Lord Eddard that you are not taking visitors?”

Lady Catelyn’s eyes welled when she mentioned the Hand of the Prince Regent.  “Lord Eddard will want nothing to do with me or this family now!” she whispered, but still rose from the table and went in search of their maid.

Once her sister had left the dining room, Sansa turned to her and whispered.  “Ser Tywin was here last night.” 

“What?” Shireen could not help her reaction.  It was out before she could stop herself.  She got herself under control.  “When was he here?  Before you joined us for supper?”

Sansa looked miserable.  “Afterward.  He was here when I arrived.  I thought  . . . “

Myrian entered the room again, this time with both Lady Catelyn and Stannis.  Shireen and Sansa both stood, although the usual courtesies were foregone.   “Is it true that Lord Lannister has been . . . “ Shireen could not finish.  She had said the word too many times already. 

Her brother looked first at Sansa and then at her before answering.  “We were being told the currently known details by the House clerk when your note arrived.”

They all took seats around the table.  “Magistrate Kettleblack says that servants last saw Lord Lannister around nine of the clock last night before he retired.  He was found this morning and the doctor concluded, through various means, that the deed happened an hour or so after he retired.”  He looked at Sansa, but with no specific expression other than concern for her reaction.  “It was reported that Ser Tywin is being sought as the suspect as the last person to have seen Lord Lannister other than the servants.” 

Shireen looked at Sansa and put a hand on her arm.  “Would they be able to determine such things precisely?” 

“What things?” Stannis asked, obviously taken aback that she might be asking such a grizzly question as to whether they could pinpoint the precise time Lord Lannister was attacked and his life extinguished. 

It was Sansa who clarified.  “Please . . . are they able to tell, with any margin of certainty, when this happened?” 

Stannis looked all the more confused, as did Lady Catelyn who was about to upbraid her sister again, except her brother spoke up first.  “Not with exact certainty, but with an element of accuracy.” 

Shireen neither encouraged nor discouraged Sansa from deciding whether to tell the others present what she had started to tell her.  She knew not whether Ser Tywin had come here to ask her to go on the run with him after he had done such a deed, although she truly doubted that would be the case.

“Last night, when I arrived home,” Sansa began her voice barely above a whisper and sad eyes trained on Stannis, “Ser Tywin was here . . . “

“He what!” Lady Catelyn literally screamed, but held her tongue when Stannis gave her a scowl before turning back to Sansa. 

Sansa continued, her eyes never leaving her brother’s.  “Upon my return, I had a . . . a note.  I thought it was . . . I did not think it from Ser Tywin.”

“You thought it from me.”  

“Yes.”

Lady Catelyn could not contain herself.  “Why would she think you were sending her a note?”

Stannis stared her down again.  “Obviously, your sister was in expectation of one.”  Shireen was proud of her brother in that, unlike Lady Catelyn, he did not panic immediately and think the worst of Sansa. 

“I should have realized the hour was all wrong and I was perplexed at how you could have sent it when I had just left your townhouse.  Even when I read it, I should have known it could not be from you.  However it was one sentence and . . . and I could think of nothing else other than it being from you until I went into the garden and found Ser Tywin there.”

“What was in this note?” Lady Catelyn asked.  She was not completely intimidated by Stannis and, indeed, she had asked the question they all wanted to know the answer to. 

Sansa looked away from Stannis and down at her lap.  “The words were _Meet me outside in the garden_.  I should have known you would not send such a note.  Not at that hour of the night, but had I realized it was from Ser Tywin, I still would have gone out into the garden to assure myself there was nothing amiss or . . . or that there was good reason for his being there.” 

Everyone at the table waited for her to explain more, but she did not.  After several seconds of awkward silenc, and Stannis’ general lack of patience, he prompted her for more.  “Were it not for the events of this morning, had I heard this I would have assumed Ser Tywin was making an overly dramatic gesture of asking for your hand in marriage.  Was that his reason or was he here to tell you good-bye?”  Or did he have some other reason for his call at such a late hour?

“That’s just it!  He was here to say that he had reached some sort of accord with Lord Lannister and that he had agreed to provide him with a living.”

“Then he was here to ask you to marry him?” Stannis pressed. 

Sansa looked up again as all eyes trained on hers and he voice was beginning to break, “He was.” 

No one asked what her answer had been.  Shireen knew Stannis knew Ser Tywin had been refused, just as she did.  She suspected Lady Catelyn was too absorbed in discerning the impact all this would be on her courtship with Lord Eddard.   Before more could be said, Lord Tully arrived back from the House.   Only Stannis and she stood and the older man quickly realized there was more afoot than the already devastating news that the suitor of one of his daughters was accused of such a heinous act. 

Stannis took it upon himself to fill him in as they sat back down and Tully took his place at the head of the table.  “Ser Tywin was here last night when Lady Sansa arrived home from supper with us.  He was here to ask for her hand in marriage.”

“Did you accept?” Tully barked out, unthinking.

“No father,” Sansa said barely above a whisper.  “I did not.”

“Was he trying to get you to run away with him?”

Stannis again spoke for her.  “The scene Lady Sansa has just described to us does not speak of a man who either just committed such an act or had reason to leave quickly.” 

“She has ruined us all, Father!” Lady Catelyn wailed.

Shireen was not surprised or saw reason to give him an admonishing look when Stannis glared at Lady Catelyn.  “With all due respect, we are talking about matters far weightier than whether the local gossips will look down their noses at you for the slight indiscretion of your sister walking out in the garden last night to see why she received a cryptic note at a strange hour.”  Stannis turned back to Sansa and his expression softened.  “How long was Ser Tywin here?”

“No more than a quarter of an hour, but I had the impression that he had been waiting for quite a long time.  I assure you Sta . . . . My Lord . . . that he did not give any indication he was a man with blood on his hands or that he was in any hurry to leave.  He gave no indication of leaving King’s Landing either. As he left, he . . . he asked whether my refusal would prevent him still having an occasional dance at the remaining balls of the Season.” 

Tully spoke up.  “Baratheon, you are widely acknowledged for knowing more about law than any of the most learned barristers in Westeros.  Does what my daughter tell exonerate Ser Tywin?  While this is not something that will be our ruination, it is somewhat of a scandal and I admit I would like to avoid it if it is of no help to him or if he could, perhaps, still be guilty.” 

Stannis ran a hand through across his high forehead and sighed.  “Magistrate Kettleblack needs to know the facts and we can find a way for him to discretely make inquire of Lady Sansa, for he will not take our retelling of events.  I know the exact time Lady Sansa left our home last evening, and we can provide him with a timeline that he can use to help determine Ser Tywin’s guilt or innocence.  As for word getting out to others, the magistrate is not the problem there. If he were known to be adversarial to the nobility, he would not be in the position he is in as head magistrate.  If Lady Cercei knows Ser Tywin was here, she will find a way to make it widely known and with whatever slant she wants to put to it.” 

Shireen knew her brother had added that last to prepare the Tullys, not because it was of importance to him.  Lady Catelyn may have cause to assume this scandal, of which they were innocently in the middle of, might cause Lord Eddard to cease his attentions to her.  Shireen did not know him well enough to have an opinion.  What she did know is it would be of no consequence to Stannis.  Amid all the horrible news of this morning, Shireen knew her brother had one bit of information that he could not help but categorize as music to his ears.  Sansa had turned down Ser Tywin’s proposal and had gone into the garden in anticipation of seeing him. 

“Tully, I recommend you and I go see the head magistrate.”  Shireen could see that Stannis had decided a course of action and was taking charge.  “If Ser Tywin is in custody, I want to see him as well.  I further recommend you not receive any visitors.  It will cause talk on its own, but better that than give the gossipmongers words they can actually twist to provide more grist for the mill.”  He turned his attention to Shireen.  “You will stay with Lady Sansa?”

“Of course,” she replied, giving him an assured look that he would know was her telling him that she would take care of her. 

Lord Tully acquiesced to Stannis’ advice without question and the two of them left without further ado, save one long, meaningful look between her brother and Sansa.  Hers seemed to convey an apology and his replied that there was no need. 


	13. Chapter 13

King’s Landing 1811  
Cercei Lannister

It had been far more difficult to cut a throat open than Cercei had assumed before she put the knife to her father’s throat and run the blade across it.  Poison would have been less tiresome, but poison was also a woman’s weapon.  In order to get the full effect of her intent, it needed to look like a man performed this deed.  Men were incapable of believing a woman capable of violent acts despite all evidence to the contrary throughout history. 

They had both betrayed her.  Her father long ago when he found her being pleasured by the stable boy and decided to try to put reigns on her in every way that mattered.  But this last betrayal was intolerable.  She would not allow Tywin to marry the Tully chit under any circumstances.  Her instructions had been to ruin her, not wed her and take her to live in Darry.  Of course, Tywin would arrogantly assume he could bed both of them.  Cercei had been willing to allow him to bed Sansa Tully the once to make it so Stannis Baratheon would not want her and would have it that the one time he stuck his neck out to vie for a lady, it came to naught.  But Tywin was hers and hers alone . . . he would die at the end of a rope by what she set in motion because he was hers to do with as she liked. 

Tywin had not known her to be at home where she could overhear his wrangling with her father and for him to propose that he should be paid to stay away from her and marry someone else!  It was not to be borne.  After Tywin left the townhouse, Cercei set a plan in motion.  She knew her father would get his glass of Dornish wine and retire to his room to review his accounts and the servants would stay downstairs for most of the evening.  There were no events of the evening for Tywin to be seen at.  She sent a note to Tywin using the footman who was so afraid of her, he would never own up to any less than what she told him to say or do.  The note asked him to meet her at the Farman townhouse known to be empty and that she had arranged to use as a place for them to be alone together.  Out of habit, he would ensure no one saw him arrive or leave.  He would spend hours waiting for her there while she sealed his fate and freed herself of her father’s autocratic behavior and constraints.  Once her brother, Kevan, was Lord Lannister, he would be far easier to manipulate. 

Cecei had had to prepare herself.  She wrapped her hair in an old petticoat and dressed in an old, linen night gown.   Fortunately, her wardrobe was so extensive and changed so often, her maids could not account the number of petticoats and night gowns she owned and wore.  She would also need to wash up afterward.  It would have to be the water in father’s wash basin rather than her own, which the maids changed regularly.  The look of innocence would require the water in her own basin show as clear and that the chamber pot not look any different than usual.  She had it planned down to the smallest detail.  Just as she knew he would, her father did not even turn to face her as he sat at his desk after she entered the room.  He merely continued to haunch over his papers and snidely remark that she had lost her plaything and whatever would she do now?  Cercei answered his question by wordlessly reaching around him and dragging the blade across his throat.  The first cut made him sputter and unable to speak, but was not sufficient to ensure he his death.  Her second cut was cleaner. 

Afterward, she stripped naked and threw the clothing into the fireplace.  That had been the other thing she could count on.  Her father insisted on a fire in his room in the evening no matter what the temperature.  He needed the extra illumination to read by.  Feeling no need to hurry, Cercei attended the fire until there was nothing but a great deal of ash left of the linens.  The darkness allowed her to open a window so the additional smoke would dissipate.  The only risk she ran was the smoke being seen it left the window, but it was a small risk since her father’s bed chamber faced the back of the townhouse. 

In an hour, Cercei was back in bed and waiting for her father to be discovered.  The maid’s scream came just as the sun broke the horizon.  Her performance for the magistrate and the house servants had been exemplary, using just the right amount of shock and incredulity.  Too much grief would have looked suspicious.  All of Westeros knew she and her father were not warmly disposed toward one another, but only Tywin knew the true depths of their estrangement and her hatred for him. 

By the time Magistrate Kettleblack left that morning, all suspicion was on Tywin.  Well, most all.  The surgeon they summoned to examine the body noted that Twyin should not have needed two make two passes and that the wounds were more shallow than he expected from an angry man with Tywin’s strength.  It had been all she could do to insert a hypothesis that perhaps he hesitated because he knew how wrong the act was.   But she knew better than to look eager to implicate Tywin.  Indeed, she knew she was required to defend him in order to not look suspicious. 

News came several hours after the magistrate left that Ser Tywin was in custody and being held for questioning at the old dungeon left from the Red Keep that was now used a gaol.  Magistrate Kettleblack attempted to dissuade her when she insisted that she speak to him alone.  She had actually rubbed her eyes with a finger soaked in saltwater to try to make them look red and swollen.  “He is my cousin and has been my closest friend.  I want him to tell me to my face and to explain.  He won’t speak to me if you are present.” 

In the end, as she most often did, she got her way.  Tywin was not surprised to see her, but neither did he start with assertions that he was not the killer.  He knew her well.  Once the magistrate had left and the guard was out of sight, Tywin looked down at her with cold green eyes as they moved to stand before one another.  “You killed your own father?”

Cercei could only smirk at him as she said barely above a whisper.  “Everyone tells me _you_ killed him.  I would thank you if I did not know better.”

“Of course you know better.  You sent me the note to meet you so that I would have no alibi.  Overplayed that one, my girl.”

“Did I?” Cercei quipped, sure this was a bluff.  He always met her when she called for him. 

It was Tywin’s turn to smirk and Cercei was beginning to feel a touch of concern.  “I went to the Tully townhouse instead and waited for Lady Sansa’s return.” 

This made Cercei’s blood boil and she met his smirk with a look of pure hatred upon learning of this further betrayal.  It had never occurred to her that he would not come to her when he called.  Neither said anything as they glared at one another, giving her time to collect her thoughts.  “I notice the Tullys are not here to ask that the doors of the gaol be flown open for you.  Catelyn was having dinner with Robert, Lyanna, and Ned.  I know Tully spends his evenings at the House club because he does not want to be stuck with his youngest brat.  Could it be that you waited for her to arrive back from Baratheon’s and spoke to her alone late at night?  Catelyn will insist Sansa leave you here to rot before that scandal emerges and spoils her prospects with Ned Stark.  Ned may not believe such a minor scandal should keep him from marriage, but the Prince Regent will use it as such, especially if I play into his guilt at not honoring our fathers’ wishes that we marry.”

“But you have not factored in Baratheon or his intuitive little sister.  They will suss out the truth and Baratheon, despite all else, will look for justice to be done.  The man cannot help himself.” 

He was correct.  She had not factored that in because she had not felt the need.  Tywin was supposed to have been at the Farman townhouse waiting for her.  Be that as it may, she had factored in the one thing that would see this through.  Tywin loved her, regardless of whether he should or not and whatever other plans he had made.  He would not see her dangling from the end of a rope.  Men of his type were often caught up in their own bizarre sense of honor.  Still, she would need to proceed with extreme caution at this point.  If he didn't confess to save her; he would confess to save Sansa Tully’s reputation. 

“You drove me to this,” she spat at him in an attempt to stir up the notion that he was responsible despite not holding the blade.  “You did not even warn me you had decided to marry the Tully girl.  I had to hear it through the walls as you debased yourself groveling to my father for enough money to live on.”

Tywin had a gift for adding menace to his voice.  Usually, it made her want to throw him down and straddle him until she had had her pleasure from him.  However, at this particular moment, it left her concerned that she might have missed something vital.  “You know, there was a Queen Cercei Lannister long ago.  You have to dig deep into the histories of Westeros to find out about her fate.  She had beautiful blonde hair and a long neck such as yours.  Do you know what happened to this queen?”

Cercei did not answer him, but did not let him see fear. 

“She had to expose that long neck of hers on a block where a great-sword was used separate her head from her body.  And would you like to know who the author of her demise was?”

She scoffed, not sure he wasn’t making this up.  She remembered there was a Queen Cercei who was married to Robert of Robert’s Rebellion, but knew nothing else about her.  Tywin sneered at her as he lowered his head down closer to her.  “King Stannis, first of his name and surely the ancestor of our present Lord Baratheon was the one that brought the great-sword down on her neck.  I've been told history has a way of repeating itself except this time Stannis Baratheon may be ensuring a noose goes over your neck for the purpose of snapping it instead of using a sword to sever it, My Dear.” 


	14. Chapter 14

King’s Landing 1811  
Stannis Baratheon

Tully and Stannis first went to see Magistrate Kettleblack, calling as little attention to themselves as possible in doing so.  On the way, he had discussed a plan to send Lady Lysa back to the Riverlands on the morrow.  Stannis would hire the livery and he would ask Seaworth to provide escort for the young girl and her maidservant halfway to Blackfish while Tully said that he could get his cousin, Hoster, to meet them and escort her the rest of the way.  They could hardly keep her sequestered for more than a few days and she would be the prey of all the inquisitive. 

More than willing to allow Stannis to do most of the talking, Tully sat quietly while Stannis told the head magistrate what Sansa had told them that morning with certain details left out, such as who else was or wasn't at home and where they held the conversation.  He did, however, make specific reference to the points Sansa made about Ser Tywin’s demeanor being one who believed he had a secured future authored by Lord Lannister until his proposal was refused.  “If he was going to do a rash act out of anger,” Stannis claimed, “It was more likely Lady Sansa’s life was the one in danger rather than Lord Lannister's.  By all accounts, he accepted her answer without argument and left.  It does not make sense that he would return to the Lannister townhouse to confront Lannister for any reason.”

Magistrate Kettleblack, a rotund man with a sweeping mustache and booming voice leaned back in his chair and thought about all he had heard and although it was Stannis who had addressed him, he framed his reply to Tully.  “It is possible Ser Tywin anticipated your daughter’s refusal and that this was merely an attempt to establish an account of his whereabouts that would cause doubt.”

Stannis was trying to assess whether the head magistrate had fully made up his mind about Ser Tywin’s guilt or was trying to get someone to deliberate over options with him.  He opted for the latter since he, too, needed time to take stock of all they knew and what it meant or where it might lead.  However, it would be best if he could get the head magistrate to ask for his help rather than insert himself into the inquiry forcefully.  “We only came to tell you what we know, Magistrate.  There is much that does not make sense to me, but I can only speculate.  We will bid you good-day and wish you success on your pursuit of the truth in this grievous matter.”

The head magistrate took the bait.  “I would be eager to hear what does not make sense to you, Lord Baratheon, if you would indulge me.” 

“Very well.  Would you not agree that, while premeditated, the planning was not of long duration?  Ser Tywin is a military man with training in strategy.  We must conclude that a man who was both trained at and has trained others at the best military academy in Westeros would have planned this with a great deal more cunning and precision than this.  This was quickly planned and executed.  I can assure you that if Ser Tywin wanted to kill Lannister, he would have made it so that he had a far firmer account for his whereabouts and it would have been in a manner in which he was the least likely suspect.

“What if Ser Tywin did not have time to execute a plan?  Let us speculate, M’Lord, that Lord Lannister had something he could use against Ser Tywin and, in their meeting that evening, Ser Tywin learned and came up with the best plan possible given a short amount of time?

Stannis took a bit of time to think on it before he dismissed it.  “It is a fair question and would have great credence if it were not for the fact that Lord Lannister would know better than to give Ser Tywin any warning if he had such a weapon against him and planned to use it.  Lord Lannister was no fool and only a fool would assume Ser Tywin would merely walk away.”

“The doctor noted that there were two shallow cuts across Lord Lannister’s throat rather than one clean, decisive one.”

“Were there any signs of an intruder or someone breaking into the Lannister townhouse?”

“There were not.  However, there was an inordinate amount of ash in Lord Lannister’s fireplace and not from the coal normally burned there.  There were no drops of blood either outside of the bedchamber window or beyond the bedroom.”

Stannis absorbed the information.  It was all leading in one direction.  “Were all the water basins and chamber pots checked?” 

“Yes, M’Lord.  Lord Lannister’s was filled with red water.  There is where the killer would have washed.  All other pots and basins were clean.”

Tully, who had been silent through this whole exchange, shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “Are you two leading where I believe you are?”

As much as he disliked the lady, even Stannis did not like the picture that was clearly forming.  The idea of Cercei Lannister slitting the throat of her own father gave him a chill.  “She makes more sense than Ser Tywin.  Slitting a throat would have sprayed blood everywhere and it would have gotten on the killer, even from behind because the body would have moved around with the blade, especially with a shallow cut.  Who else could strip bare of all clothing and have only a small distance to go without being seen in such a state?”

“But . . . but . . . she is a woman!” Tully cried out.  “I don’t believe it is Ser Tywin, but I can believe that far easier than I can that a woman would do such a thing . . . to her father!”

Magistrate Kettleblack sighed, scratching a patch just above his beard.  “I regret to report, Lord Tully, that women are just as capable as men of murder.”  He then focused his attention back to Stannis.  “I have heard that Ser Tywin and Lady Cercei have a history that is believed to be of an intimate nature.”

Stannis knew this was not a time for malicious rumor, yet he did not believe this to be rumor.  “I cannot affirm that it is true, yet I believe it to be true.  If she overheard Ser Tywin and her father make a deal that allowed Ser Tywin to marry someone other than her, she might have wanted to stop it.”

“But what purpose does it serve to take away the impediment to his marrying someone else unless she can get Ser Tywin off the charge and cast suspicion elsewhere.”

“This is Lady Cercei, Tully,” Stannis said, “You are not as familiar with her as those who have spent more time in King’s Landing.  She would not take his defection lightly.  This is not a woman with the expected sentiment of other women.”   

With a big intake of breath, Magistrate Kettleblack folded his hands on top of his bulbous belly.  “We may speculate to our heart’s content, M’Lords, but without evidence, it will be extremely difficult to event can suspicion against any lady of the realm.  Ser Tywin was the last seen with Lord Lannister and the servants say they both raised their voices.  However, I hope you understand that I need to question Lady Sansa in person.”

Tullly’s growl could probably be heard all across King’s Landing.  The head magistrate continued, unaffected by Tully’s response.  “M’Lord Baratheon, I do indeed need special advice in this case due to the sensitivities of the personages involved.  I should like to ask you if you would consent to rendering me your continued assistance.  If it serves any purpose, I would tell anyone who might have seen you arrive here that I specifically requested that you visit here today for that purpose.  Perhaps . . . “ the older man wiped his mustache with his index and forefinger, “perhaps I could call on you tomorrow night to go over any new information I might have and . . . perhaps . . . the Tullys might be your guests for the evening?” 

Stannis had always had respect for the head magistrate, but it had reached a new level.  “That is a very wise plan, Magistrate.  You have my thanks.” 

“I do have one more thing you should know as well as one more question.”

“Yes?”

“Had you arrived here only ten minutes earlier than you did, you would have seen Lady Cercei leave.  She asked to visit her cousin in private and claimed that she wanted to ask him to his face if he had killed her father.”

That did not strike him as odd.  If this was done as he now suspected, she would want him to know that she had orchestrated his doom.  However, there was the missing element of ensuring he was not able to account for his whereabouts.  Stannis knew the time of death could not be so precise that they his being able to account for two hours would free him from suspicion.  Cercei would attempt to find a way to monopolize all of his evening, but he could not see how she would do that and still have time to kill her father, get rid of any evidence on her person afterward, and be in her bed when the first servant came upon the scene.  “You said you had one more question?”

For the first time, the head magistrate looked uncomfortable.  “Yes, M’Lord.  I should like to know, if I may, your association with the Tully family.  Why are you involved?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tully lean forward and give him an interested sidelong glance.  This was a time for truth and he did realize Magistrate Kettleblack needed all the facts.  Stannis cleared his throat but held his head proudly.  “As I said earlier, Ser Tywin came to visit Lady Sansa to ask for her hand in marriage and was refused.  I hope to meet with more success.  Does that satisfy as an answer?” 

“Perfectly, M’Lord.”

Stannis allowed the two older men to exchange their amused glances at his expense for only a second.  “With your permission, I would like to both talk to Ser Tywin and to see the Lord Lannister’s bed chamber,” Stannis asked. 

“I can take you to see Ser Tywin now,” the head magistrate said, slowly rising up from the creaky chair.  “However, your being in the Lannister townhouse could unduly alarm Lady Cercei that she is under suspicion.  I promise you that I will attempt another very thorough examination.”

He was right; it could alarm Cercei although that might not be a bad thing.  It could cause her to panic and make a mistake.  The head magistrate was being very gracious and Stannis was most grateful for his protection of Sansa’s reputation.  To that end, he would not press for more than Magistrate Kettleblack was willing to allow.

Asking Tully to wait for him, Stannis followed Kettleblack down to the old dungeon, squinting at the scant torchlight.  He was a bit appalled that a knight of the realm was not incarcerated under better circumstances.  Further toward the back of the room, he saw a series of cubicles with iron bars that served as the gaol.  In all his life, he had never been down here.  The head magistrate opened the cell door and Stannis had a most uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stepped into the cell and peered up a Ser Tywin. 

“Well, Baratheon.  What took you so long?”

Of all the things he might have imagined Ser Tywin would say to him in a moment like this, asking why he had not gotten there sooner was not one of them.  “And why was I expected?”

Ser Tywin folded his arms across his chest.  “Because Lady Sansa has told you everything.  She would do no less.  And you . . . you know I’m innocent of this, so you would do no less than be here to try to clear me.  Of course, it is not for my sake.  You want to make sure she does not feel any remorse over my hanging.  This is for her, but I am glad to see you.” 

Stannis could not say he was glad to there.  “Why was Lady Cercei here earlier?”

“Can you not guess?” Tywin scoffed.

“Did she confess?”  Stannis persisted.  “I don’t have time for games.  If you want my help, then tell me what I need to know.”

Ser Tywin’s haughty expression suddenly changed to a haggard one.  “Yes.  She confessed.”  Stannis listened as Ser Tywin relayed the conversation he had with Lady Cercei, particularly that she expected that Tywin would be without an ability to account for his whereabouts.

When Stannis had finished with his questions, he called out to the guard that had gone the length of the room to be out of earshot of a normal conversation.  “I believe you are innocent, Ser Tywin, but I believe you brought much of this about indirectly.” 

Ser Tywin did not argue the point.  “Tell Lady Sansa I am sorry she has become involved in this.  Keep her as far away from it as you can, Baratheon.” 

Stannis did not answer him; the man should know he would protect her as much as it was possible for him to do so.  He and Tully rode back to the Tully townhouse in silence, their horses moving in an easy canter.  Just before they turned onto Dragonstone Way, the great Blackfish slowed to a trot and Stannis followed suit.  Tully looked at him sternly, “It will eventually get out that Ser Tywin was with Sansa last night and it will be blown out of proportion as these things always are.  If the scandal will keep you from asking for my daughter, I would beg you to begin to absent yourself from her life after she is questioned by the head magistrate tomorrow.”   

Pulling slightly ahead of Tully and stopping his horse so that the older man did too, Stannis hoped his expression showed his earnestness.  “I do not care what all of Westeros says about your daughter, Tully.  The only way this Season ends with your having escaped having me for a good son is if she refuses.”  After his little speech, Stannis broke out into a gallop.  He heard Tully calling after him, “You _do_ realize I am _not_ old enough to be your damned father!”  


	15. Chapter 15

King’s Landing 1811  
Sansa Tully

Sitting in the Baratheon townhouse drawing room prior to supper, Sansa looked around at the changes, and not for the better, that she had brought on people she cared about.  Lord Seaworth had been removed from Shireen’s side to escort Lysa part of the way back to Blackfish.  All the while, Shireen was treating them as honored guests.  Sansa hoped no ill would ever befall Shireen that required Sansa to make this up to her, but she hoped that should that day come, she could be as calm and gracious in the service of others as her friend. 

Her father was spending an evening away from the House club, where he loved to spend his time.  She had already apologized to Catelyn, who sent a note to Lord Eddard earlier in the day and had yet to receive a reply.  That said, Sansa had to admit she was a bit embarrassed by Catelyn’s manner as a guest.  She was behaving as if she believed to be a great lady of a great house in the home of those she condescended to associate with.    

Then there was Stannis.  The House had closed the day before out of respect for Lord Lannister, but it had reopened today and yet Stannis had spent the day somehow involved in matters related to Lord Lannister’s death and Ser Tywin’s incarceration.  Upon their arrival back from the head magistrate’s office and the gaol, Stannis told her that she would be questioned by Magistrate Kettleback while a guest in their home on the morrow some time before supper.  Stannis had also advised her to only answer the direct question asked and not to volunteer elements that were not needed.  He cited, as an example, that she should not specify exactly what part of the residence the conversation with Ser Tywin took place unless directly asked.  However, if she was asked to be specific, she was to do so. 

The interview took place in the dining room of the townhouse with both her father and Stannis present.  The head magistrate, who sat across from her, was very kind and wrote down her answers.  Stannis sat next the magistrate and her father, beside her.  She could tell Magistrate Kettleblack had heard most of what she had to say before.  “Would I be correct when I say that you can only account for a small fraction of the time Ser Tywin claims to have been at your townhouse on Dragonstone Way?”

“Yes, Head Magistrate.  Our housemaid, Myrian, let him in and he waited until I arrived.  We began our discourse when I arrived and it was no more than a quarter of an hour, after which I walked with Ser Tywin to the door and he left.”  She looked to Stannis to see if this was too much, but saw no look or warning or alarm in his countenance. 

“M’Lady, I deal with facts.  Be that as it may, I would still like an impression from you.  Did Ser Tywin strike you as a man with a mission other than the one he . . . did you get a sense of duplicitousness in his stated reason for being there?”

Sansa took her time in answering as she felt it required that she ensure her answers were as accurate and fully considered as possible considering the gravity of the matter.  “I found him much as I had always found him.  I saw no change in his demeanor that gave me pause.” 

The head magistrate considered this carefully.  “M’Lady, upon reflection, does it strike you as odd that a man who had just proposed to you and been refused did not plead his cause or do more to change your mind?” 

Sansa felt color creep into her face and she stole another glance at Stannis, whose jaw was beginning to clench.  “Ser Tywin did . . . if you are asking whether he accepted my answer without argument, he did not.  Neither were his arguments unreasonable.” 

“I see,” Magistrate Kettleblack said, although she wasn’t quite certain what that meant accept possibly to acknowledge that he heard her answer.  “M’Lady, I am sorry to trouble you and appreciate your having taken the time to talk with me.” 

“It is I who must thank you.  I realize the effort you are taking to exercise discretion.”  She stood, knowing the men at the table would wait for her to do so before following suit.  The look in Stannis’ dark blue eyes and the slight widening of his mouth as he gave her a small nod conveyed that she had done well and allowed her to breathe a little easier. 

The supper that followed was unlike any she had ever attended at the Baratheon townhouse.  It was a somber occasion with little conversation.  There was hardly any more conversation when the men retired for a drink and the ladies returned to the drawing room.  Catelyn was still affecting an air that embarrassed Sansa, and as such, she attempted as much small talk with Shireen as the two of them could manage.  When her father and Stannis joined them, Stannis asked her if she would like to walk out on the balcony with him and take in a bit of the night air. 

They stood side-by-side in silence for what seemed like minutes, but was probably the work of seconds.  “You did well,” Stannis said finally, moving to stand with his hip leaning against the balcony rail so that he could look at her.  “You are not responsible for any of what is currently happening.  You are merely involved because a man, who we both believe innocent of what he is accused, came to speak to you.” 

She was determined not to cry and to show the strength she knew he wanted of her.  “That does not leave me without regret for what seems to be befalling everyone.”

“Shireen is doing what she likes to do best, be of service to someone she has affection for.  The same can be said for Seaworth.  Your younger sister was at the awkward age where _she_ believes she is old enough for the events that take place here and is not.  Sending her home is of value for more reasons than one.  Your father is worried, yet has the experience in life to know that uncomfortable things befall us that must be dealt with.  I cannot speak for your sister.”  Sansa knew he probably had a great deal he could say about Catelyn’s behavior and appreciated the restraint.  She noticed he did not speak for himself either. 

“If you believe Ser Tywin innocent, is it because you know who is culpable?” she asked.  Sansa had tried to think of who would want to do such a heinous thing and could not.  There was a part of her that wanted it to be some faceless, nameless monster that no one would see or hear from again; however, she was fully aware that Ser Tywin might well hang if no other culprit was found.  The murder of a lord of the realm usually was avenged even if it was not rightfully avenged. 

Stannis kept his voice low as he reached over and took her right hand, which had been gripping the balcony rail, in his.  His hands were warm and strong, and while she still felt that delicious sensation she did when he touched her, it also seemed as if he was passing some of his strength into her.  She turned to face him.  “I do not wish to keep things from you,” Stannis said.  “So, I would ask you to trust me when I say that I have very strong suspicions about someone, but do not wish to distress you until I am absolutely certain or there is a need for you to know to keep you safe.  It is not someone close to you; however, if you would feel safer knowing all I believe to be true, I will tell you.  That said, if I do tell you, I would beg of you that you stay at home as much as possible.  It would not be safe if this person did believe you suspected them, and I’m not sure you could act in a manner that wasn’t transparent.”

Her voice softened in that tone she realized she often used when it was the two of them that was almost a whisper.  “I trust you implicitly, Stannis.  You are right that I would not be able to act with anything other than transparency were I to find myself knowingly in the presence of someone who could do such violence to another.  What does give me pause is that you are implying I might find myself in this person’s presence.”

Stannis gave her hand a gentle squeeze and brought their entwined hands up to his chest, requiring her to take a step closer to him.  “I haven’t the right to do more than ask that you heed my advice for the present.  There is something in particular I want to ask of you that would give me that right were you to accept, yet I do not want that memory wrapped up in the current shroud of the events of the past two days.”

She knew he meant to say more but his pause allowed her to interject.  “Assume you have the right and know that I will trust all advice you have for me.”  She bit her lower lip at the boldness of her statement until a small smile played at his lips. 

He pressed on, seriousness taking over again.  “Shireen will look forward to your company these days and neither of you have spent your days in the company of the person of whom I believe responsible.  Avoid anyone you have not already been associating with in the course of your days in King’s Landing so far.  Should someone try to interject themselves into your time that has not already, avoid them.  It is true that you may be in the presence of this person at some any of the affairs that go on in the evenings.  I will escort both you and Shireen, and Lady Catelyn if she does not object or have another escort, to any of the upcoming social events and I am sure your father will be more diligent about attending as well.  I believe the Prince Regent has invited us all to a lavish dinner and card party tomorrow, and has not cancelled due to events.  Were it more than that, I should say decorum would dictate we all decline.”

“It will be difficult to attend any event and be . . . as I have been.  There are those who will have me under close scrutiny.” 

“That is true, and I am sorry you will have to endure it.  You would be talked about more were you not to attend.  Stay by my side as much as possible, although I may leave you in Shireen’s or Tully’s company if there is occasion to search for more of the truth regarding the other matter.”

Sansa’s eyes grew wide.  “You will be careful!  You will not put yourself in danger?”

Stannis raised their entwined hands upward and placed a light kiss on her back of her hand and then brought it back down before letting go.  “I will do what it takes to get this business behind us and get on with our lives togeth  . . . to get on with our being able to confer on what comes next in our lives.”

He put his hand on her waist and she leaned into it before they made their way to the Dornish-style doors that opened back into the townhouse.  Just before he reached for the door handles, Sansa could not help herself.  “I do have one more question?”

Stannis stopped and turned to her, waiting.  She smiled and lowered her eyes a bit.  “What sort of weather can one expect in Storm’s End after the Season?” 

This was received with a raised eyebrow and for a second, she wasn’t sure she should have made her own implications about their having a future together until he answered her.  “You do not have as much experience with storms at Blackfish.  Storms are often caused by warm air rising and cold air sinking.  They can leave a great deal of steam heat in their wake.  We also have cool breezes off the ocean, yet I strongly suspect there will be a good bit more of the steam heat this year than has been seen at Storm’s End in a long time.” 

Although she brought it on, Sansa was beet red when she joined the rest of their party to prepare to return to Dragonstone Way. 


	16. Chapter 16

King’s Landing 1811  
Stannis Baratheon

Tonight was a series of firsts.  The first of firsts was that Stannis was truly eager to go to a Season event.  The second first was that he was eager to go to an event at any point in time either attended or hosted by his royal cousin, Prince Robert.  The third first was that he was official the escort of a lady other than his sister or his lady mother.  There was more he could add to the list, although too much time had been wasted on the thought already.  Tully had argued that surely Lady Cercei would not show up at a card party while in mourning.  Stannis doubted she could stay away.  And if she was there, he would do everything within his power to cater to one of her weaknesses . . . wine.  It would be difficult for she made an effort to show moderation while among those she would not want to see or hear what happens when she did not.  He had witnessed it once, years ago, and would that there were others who could bring up that memory of her publicly humiliating herself by telling her lord father what she truly thought of him.  The only witnesses other than Lord Lannister and himself had been his brother, Steffon; King Renly; and Prince Robert.  He also hoped to stir that memory in the Prince Regent in some less-than-obvious fashion.    

Shireen rode in the Baratheon carriage and four with him beside her on Fury as they made their way to Dragonstone Way to pick up the Tully party.  Stannis did not normally pay attention to ladies attire . . . or to any attire other than rely on Colkyn and Shireen to see that his attire was as befitted the Lord Baratheon of Storm’s End . . . however, he certainly noticed the blue gown Sansa wore and how it seemed to match her eyes.  He stood mesmerized as she descended the stone steps of the townhouse on her father’s arm, Lady Catelyn on his other.  She looked up at him and smiled, but it was a smile that showed trepidation.  She would be foolish to look forward to the farce this night would probably be.  Stannis only hoped he could make it less so. 

Lady Catelyn, on the other hand, looked totally miserable.  Stannis assumed Ned Stark did not come to escort her since the party was so near where he was housed in the new Manor of the Hand, which sat next to the King’s Palace.  Reports of late was that King Renly had been moved to somewhere in his wife’s former homeland of the Vale for his health.  He would not be surprised to learn that Robert had kicked his father out of the palace. 

Once the ladies were in the carriage and Tully mounted on his horse, they made their way out of the Nobleman District to the Royal District of King’s Landing.  When they arrived, their carriage was brought by the coachmen toward the front of the entrance.  Rank was every preserved, even in where carriages were parked for the evening, and one of the distinct advantages of being from the Baratheon family was not having to sidestep a great deal of horse manure to get in or out of an evening’s function.  Before they walked into the Palace, he saw Magistrate Kettleblack’s carriage parked off to the side and noted it to Tully with a nod in the carriage’s direction.   

They cryer’s announcement of the arrival of the Baratheon and Tully party together caused heads to turn.  Stannis gave Sansa his arm and she held it tightly until he closed his hand over hers.  “Chin up, My Lady.”  Sansa relaxed and gave him the first genuine smile he had seen from her this evening.  He hadn’t realized until they had all descended the stairs that Tully had given his arm to Shireen, but that Lady Catelyn had made her way down the stairs alone.  It was a breach of decorum on his part, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to be too contrite given her sour disposition and constant barbs at Sansa. 

Curious eyes were trained on them from all over the room and while the hall was not silent by any means, the sound had died down in way that connoted more whispering than talking.  Stannis wanted to think of something lighthearted to say to her to divert her attention, but his younger brother saved him from something he felt he would probably fail at miserably anyway.  “Lady Sansa!  I quite envy my brother this evening,” Steffon greeted with a bow and receiving her curtsy.  Steffon had been blessed with far more charm that should be allowed and, for the moment, he was extremely grateful.  His brother occupied the party while he surveyed the room.  Stannis did not see Lady Cercei, although it was not a surprise.  She was known to make late entrances. 

His attention was drawn from his survey as he saw Lady Catelyn break from their party and make her way toward Robert, Lady Lyanna, and Ned Stark.  He went to survey the room once more when Sansa laid a hand on his arm and nodded toward her sister.  Lady Catelyn looked as if she had been struck.  She curtsied to the Prince and then to the Starks, and made her way back to them, walking around the numerous tables that scattered throughout the hall for the rounds of cards that would be played later.  She walked straight up to him, her eyes inflamed and looking as though she would burst into tears at any moment.  “I must go home, Lord Baratheon.  I must go now.” 

Stannis was totally astonished and just stared at her, as did everyone else.  It was Shireen who reacted first, “Lady Catelyn, that will not do.  You will regret it later, I promise you.  Hold your head up and remain with us or with other friends you might have in this hall.  Whatever this is about, you do not wish to make a scene by leaving.”

Both he and Sansa looked beyond Lady Catelyn to the Starks and the Prince.  Ned and Robert were laughing while Lyanna stood and looked utterly bored, so nothing looked out of the ordinary.  “I don’t know that I can do as you bid,” Sansa’s sister said, her voice breaking as she tried to regain composure and seemed to be failing until her gaze fell on Sansa and sadness was replaced with anger.  “This is entirely _your_ fault!”

“Hold your tongue,” Tully hissed and Stannis was felt his jaw clench as he held back everything he wanted to say.  Shireen tried again to reason with her, firmly, yet gently.  “My Lady, do not give yourself reason to regret that you did not stand beside your family when you should, for you seem to be in need of them as well at the moment.” 

Lady Catelyn glared at Shireen for a moment, and then turned back to Sansa who started to speak, but before she could get a word out, Lady Catelyn looked away and saw something or someone and, without a word, began to walk away from them.  All watched as she found her target and was greeted by Lord Hardyng.  Tully leaned toward him so only Sansa and he could hear, “I hope does not mean that smarmy little bastard is going to be my good son.”  Then, with a glint in his eyes, he trained his eyes on Stannis and quipped, “He, too, is too damned old to call me father.” 

Stannis suppressed the laugh he felt surging and it was obvious Sansa had heard that language from her father before, for she did not flinch or attempt to upbraid him.  “I cannot credit what has happened.  I know little of Lord Eddard, but even if he would shun someone for something that was done by a member of their family and not them, how would he know of it?  Why would he not encourage the Prince to rescind our invitations rather than bring us here to humiliate her?  I thought better of Lord Eddard.” 

“I would not have thought that of Ned either,” Stannis agreed.  As it was of concern to Sansa and she was accepting the guilt her sister had laid at her feet, he knew he should be more concerned.  However, at this moment, he was far more concerned with whether Cercei Lannister was going to disappoint him and stay home.  “Shall we go find out what is going on?  I am required to speak to the prince and now is as good a time as any.”

“I will stay here with my lord father,” Sansa recoiled.  “I should not be with you when you approach the Prince.” 

He truly hoped she was not awestruck of Robert.   “He may be a prince and the regent of the realm, but he will not dare insult you when you are by my side.” 

Sansa worried her lip for a few seconds and made her assent known by taking his arm.  They were almost upon Robert and the Starks when he heard it.  The cryer announced, “Lady Cercei Lannister or Casterly Rock.”  They looked at each other, but not back toward the staircare where she would be descending.  Stannis kept them moving forward until they were before the Prince Regent.  He bowed and Sansa made curtsy.  “You are Lady Sansa, are you not?” the Prince Regent bellowed.  “You are far too beautiful for the likes of my cousin!  Do you know my betrothed, Lady Lyanna and my Hand, Lord Eddard of Winterfell?”

For all her timidity, she made him truly proud when she calmly and assuredly smiled at them all and answered each of Robert’s questions at once, just as he had asked them.  “I am, indeed, Lady Sansa and I am honored to be escorted by Lord Baratheon.  And, no, I have not had the pleasure of meeting Lady Lyanna or Lord Eddard.” 

Both waited to see how the Starks would reach and both were equally astonished when Ned smiled at her warmly.  “I have long wanted to make your acquaintance, My Lady.  I do hope we will have the pleasure of your and Baratheon’s company for a supper before the Season is over.” 

“Yes,” Lady Lyanna spoke next.  “It would be lovely to get to know the lady who charmed the uncharmable.”  Stannis wasn’t sure if she meant him, Ser Tywin, or both. 

“I believe I can lay claim to the start of this!” Robert laughed, far too loudly.  “Did you not first meet when I insisted you dance at my first ball?” 

If he wanted to take the credit, let him.  “Although I do not think it was your intent, I have much to thank you for, Your Grace.” 

Robert was about to respond when Lady Cercei came and stood to his left.  She was dressed in a black gown that exposed too much of her breast to be said to be a proper dress for mourning and the amount of jewels she wore . . . he had never seen her wear such an obscene display of Lannister wealth all at once.  Robert and the Starks were either so shocked or extending sympathy when they did not seem to notice her lack of a curtsy to the Prince Regent. 

“My sympathies, Lady Cercei,” Robert said with more decorum than usual. 

Before anyone could say anything else, Cercei smiled one of her more evil smiles at Sansa and, in a tone dripping of sarcasm, commented, “I see, Lady Sansa, that you do not miss Ser Tywin’s attentions this evening.”  There would be no need to try to encourage Cercei to have more wine.  She had already had quite enough. 

Sansa’s eyes shifted to his and then back to Cercei.  “On the contrary, Lady Cercei.  I greatly wish it was as it should be . . . that Ser Tywin was here and that I was meeting your lord father for the first time.  You have my deepest sympathies as well.” 

Her sneer caused everyone to look uncomfortable except Stannis, who was too busy studying her.  She shook her head in a laugh, “One suitor is not enough for you, My Lady?”  It was the shake of her head . . . that’s when he saw it.  Lady Cercei always wore diamond studs in her earlobes, sometimes just the studs and other times, such as now, with other jewels hanging from them.  He wouldn’t know this if Shireen had not mentioned it to him once.  Looking at those diamond studs now, he saw it in the one in her right ear.  There were dark brown flecks stuck to the gold prongs that held the diamonds.  If he were a gambling man, he would wager a great deal that those dried brown flecks were once red . . . blood red. 

Briefly looking over his shoulder, he saw that Tully had moved closer once he saw Cercei join the group.  Stannis gave a brief shake of his heard to keep Tully from going to engage the head magistrate too soon.  The ear studs might be enough, evidence to at least cast enough doubt as to Ser Tywin being the most likely culprit, but based on her being a lady of the nobility, being a woman, and being a daughter, he knew he needed more.  Sansa would not thank him for what he was about to do and he hoped she would understand in due course.  “Come now, My Lady,” he said to Cercei in the presence of all.  “You did not want Ser Tywin.  Even I cannot blame him for his choice.  I doubt lack of wealth was Lady Sansa’s chief objection to Ser Tywin while I understand it to be your primary objection to him.” 

Robert looked as though he were going to explode, Lady Lyanna looked indigent at the assault of a lady in mourning, Ned was catching on and tried to catch Robert’s eye to keep him at still, and he could tell Sansa realized all when she sought to assist him, “I would never make wealth or the lack of it cause to withhold affections.”

“That’s because you’ve never had great wealth,” came the next sneer.  Robert’s mouth as opening and closing like a fish, but thankfully, nothing came out.  “What do you suggest?  That I should have gone from the life I know now to one of poverty?” 

Ned motioned for one of the servers.  “Lady Cercei, would you like a sherry?  Lady Sansa?  Lyanna?” 

‘Yes,” Cercei’s head snapped in his direction.  “I would very much like a sherry, My Lord Hand.” 

Ned quickly took one from the server and handed it to Cercei who took a long pull from the goblet.  “Besides, had you accepted Tywin, you would not have had to worry about money.  He had secured that!”

“Had he?” Stannis tried to sound only mildly interested.  “More than the living he had from Darry?” A quick glance at Robert let him know his cousin had now caught on, at least to the notion that Stannis was suspicious and trying to get to the bottom of it.  He could also tell that Robert and was deciding how far he would let him go with his current course of action. 

“My father . . . “ Cercei stopped, her eyes grew wide for only the briefest of seconds before she attempted to salvage the damage she had done.  “Tywin asked my father on the day Tywin murdered him for more money so that he could marry her.  My father did not give it to him.”

It was Ned who spoke up, “But My Lady, you just said that Ser Tywin secured the money to allow him to ask for Lady Sansa.”

If she were able to kill with a look, Ned would be as dead as her father.  “You misheard me, My Lord Hand.” 

“No, he did not.”  Now Robert was very much involved.  “You said he had would not have to worry about money.  That means he had either secured an agreement with your father or elsewhere.  And it hardly means he had a motive for a brutal attack on Lord Lannister.” 

“I cannot know why he did it!” Cercei shrieked, taking a step back.  The room grew quiet.  “She refused him.  He probably came back to implore my father to allow him to keep the funds agreed to and ask for me instead!” 

Stannis could hardly believe this was all falling into place this easily.  “Might I comment on your lovely earrings, Lady Cercei.  However, I would suggest the diamonds might sparkle that much brighter were they not marred with dried blood.” 

Robert waddled up to her and grabbed her chin in his fleshy hand to hold her still while he examined the earrings.  His voice was commanding in a way that took years of breeding in a royal line to perfect.  “You will go with my guards, Lady Cercei, either quietly or by force, but go you shall.”  Robert let go of her and two of the King’s Guard quickly flanked her.  She stared first at Robert, then at him, and lastly on Sansa.  Then she straightened her head and the guards took it as sign of acquiescence.  With all eyes in the Great Hall watching, Lady Cercei Lannister was escorted away, he could only assume to be held under guard for the present. 

“I want to see Magistate Kettleblack,” Robert barked to another of his guards, “Now!” 

“Lord Tully can take you to him,” Stannis provided to the guard preparing to leave to follow instructions.  “Magistrate Kettleblack is outside.” 

Robert trained his attention on Stannis, who gave him his due and bowed in appreciation.  “Well done, Your Grace.” 

“I hope you had no great desire to play cards tonight, Stannis.  You either, Ned.  I just put a lady from one of the most powerful houses in all of Westeros in custody and I want to know what you know about this sordid business tonight.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  Stannis turned to Sansa.  “I have no idea how long this will take.  Stay with your father when he returns and tell Shireen to take the carriage and send it back for me if the hour grows late.” 

Sansa looked up at him with shining eyes and, for the moment, he felt every inch a hero of old songs and legends.  He had mostly done it for her; it would have troubled her for the rest of her life if Ser Tywin were hanged when she so strongly believed in his innocence.  Stannis also did it because he, too, believed in his innocence and someone had to see that justice was done.  They did not speak, and he knew they were already beginning to have each other’s expressions catalogued in that way some couples or even close friends did that allowed them to actually speak volumes to each other without saying a word.  Stannis was very pleased with what her current expression was telling him. 

In the newly appointed Small Counsel chambers that were now part of the King’s Palace, Stannis and Magistrate Kettleblack relayed every detail to his royal cousin and the Hand.  The head magistrate was thanked for his time and told by Robert that Lady Cercei would remain under arrest in the palace for the time being.  Before he left, the head magistrate asked if he should free Ser Tywin. 

“You are both learned in the law,” Robert spoke in a tired voice.  “Ned, do you consider there to be enough to convict her of this and exonerate Ser Tywin?” 

Ned thought for a moment and then spoke.  “Your Grace, I believe no jury will find against Ser Tywin if they heard the evidence against Lady Cercei.  Whether you can get twelve men to make a judgement that would lead to the hanging of a woman, especially a lady of the realm is another matter.” 

“Yes,” Robert commanded.  “Free Ser Tywin in the morning.”  With that, Magistrate Kettleblack was dismissed.  Stannis made note that he would visit the man on the morrow or the next day to extend his appreciation at his not taking the easy road and deciding against Ser Tywin just because he was the last known to have seen Lannister.    

“If she were to confess, I could offer her exile on one of the Iron Islands,” Robert said, thinking aloud.  “It could only be afforded were she to give a full confession and young Lord Lannister would have to pay her expenses in exile.” 

“It would be the best course of action if she would comply,” Ned agreed. 

There was not much more for Stannis to add and by the time he left he had been dismissed by Robert and left the Small Counsel room, he knew the card party would have dispersed and that Shireen would have sent the carriage back for him.  He liked to think Sansa wanted to wait for him, only neither Tully nor Shireen would have allowed it due to the hour. 

Ned walked out with him.  “May I wish you joy, Stannis.  You have made an excellent choice in Lady Sansa.” 

“I have not asked her yet,” Stannis replied, receiving a scoff in return.

“You will.” 

Stannis felt a bit . . . arrogant . . . in his ability this night to seek the truth and far too curious to let go of an opportunity.  “I thought perhaps we would end this Season as good brothers, Ned.”

Ned’s look turned to one of sad resignation.  “I had thought that might be the way of it as well.”  Stannis could tell Ned was deciding whether to tell more and he would not press if he chose not to.  They were almost to the stairs of the Great Hall when Ned made his decision.  “She sent me a message.  In it she said that her sister’s association with Ser Tywin was an embarrassment and that she had strongly counseled against it.  She asked that I not paint her with the same brush as her sister.  I knew  . . . I knew she was haughty and self-centered, but I excused it as being one of the belles of the Season.  In all other respects, I found her very agreeable and I certainly found her lovely to look at. “  He briefly paused again, “I cannot abide one who will not stand with their family through the best and worst of times.” 

They stood in silence for a short while, as though paying respects to what might have been.  “Shall I see you in the House on the morrow?” Ned asked, changing the subject.

“We are debating whether to encourage the Prince Regent to make it illegal to throw the contents of chamber pots into Blackwater Bay . . . how could I stay away?” 


	17. Chapter 17

King’s Landing 1811  
Catelyn Tully

Catelyn looked down at her younger sister, sleeping peacefully in a way she had not for several nights.  She had always been a little jealous of Sansa’s beauty, but had been mollified since Sansa acceded to her in all things.  This Season, only one new silk had been made for Sansa while the sum her father allowed for their wardrobe for the Season has been spent mostly in silks for her.  Without complain, Sansa made over dresses of their mothers and had even helped add lavish trims to some of Catelyn’s frocks.  She had thought made-over frocks would somehow diminish Sansa’s beauty, but it did not.  The worst of it was, many of the made-over frocks were more elegant due to Sansa’s deft hand at embroidery than the ones crafted for her by the Riverland’s best seamstresses.   Sansa could sew, embroider, play the pianoforte, and sing.  Catelyn could do all of those things, but only one of them could she do marginally better than her sister and that was sing.  She was also accomplished at drawing and speaking Braavosi, but it did not seem to be as impressive to others. 

What Sansa did not know was their dowries were meant to be even until Catelyn convinced her father that, with Sansa’s beauty, she would be far more likely to attract one of the wealthier knights of the realm and not need a large dowry.  Catelyn had persuaded their father that, to assist the Tully name in advancing in the realm, one of them had to make a great marriage and beauty alone would not be sufficient.  Who could have guessed that Sansa would have caught the eye of the lord most women considered as icy toward the prospect of marriage as The Wall?  The fact that Baratheon had even looked her way, not to mention engaged in a rivalry with no less than Ser Tywin Lannister-Darry, made Sansa the talk of the Season.  While Catelyn had attracted the attention of two lords, one being the Hand of the Prince Regent, an heir to one of the largest Houses in Westeros, and would one day be one of the four wardens of the realm, she still found herself second to Sansa.  Of course, not all of the talk about Sansa had been generous even before Ser Tywin had been taken into custody.  She was ashamed of how she had helped foster the notion among some of the higher-born ladies currently in King’s Landing that Sansa was using Lady Shireen to impress Baratheon. 

Catelyn had picked her audiences carefully, never speaking ill of Sansa to Ned while occasionally expressing the dismay one might of a younger sibling to Lady Lyanna.  Her chief audience in casting light aspersions on her sister had been Lady Cercei and Lady Oleanna.  However, she had miscalculated when she sent the note to Ned.  She was certain he would turn against her once the scandal of Sansa’s having been proposed to by a murderer on the very night he committed the crime broke out and meant to distance herself from it.  Instead, she received a cold reaction to her covered with polite words about it being nice to see her again.  Ned had not even given her the ability to answer him when he stated firmly that, “Your sister needs your support this evening and we do not wish to keep you from doing your duty to her.  I value family loyalty above all else, My Lady.”  His formality and his words let her know she had overstepped.  Worse, Lady Lyanna’s sympathetic look told her that this was not an error that Ned would stew on for a few days and then later forgive. 

So now, observing her sleeping sister, Catelyn accepted her fate and made peace with it.  Sansa would become the wife of the great lord who brought a murderer to her knees in a manner that provided abundant entertainment to all.  Catelyn would still marry a lord, a rich and powerful lord, but it would also be well known that she had somehow lost the affections of an even greater suitor.  Lord Hardyng’s wealth certainly rivaled Baratheon’s and he was far more lavish in his lifestyle and in enjoying his wealth.  There would come a time when her sister would be Lady Baratheon of Storm’s End that no one of importance saw except for one month out of the year during the House sessions when Baratheon condescended to visit the crown city.  Perhaps later, if there were Baratheon daughters, Sansa would stay longer during their critical Seasons.  Catelyn meant to enjoy the years until then and see to it that Petyr allowed her to throw extravagant parties, balls, and events that would go a long way in ensuring Lord and Lady Hardyng were highly regarded by the elite of King’s Landing’s noble society. 

Petyr would be at the townhouse after today’s House session and their guest for supper, although her father and Sansa did not yet know of it.  They had it already worked it out last night.  He would go through the formality of asking her father to approve the betrothal.  Her lord father did not like Petyr, but he would acquiesce.  So far, Catelyn had not heard of Baratheon actually having proposed to Sansa or that they considered themselves betrothed despite it being a foregone conclusion.  The work of this day would be to see to it that she would at least be the first to be formally betrothed and make an announcement.

Catelyn could have loved Ned.  She was less sure she would form such an affection for Petyr.  Be that as it may, she was certain he had an affection for her and as such, she would be able to see to it that he made up for being unable to inspire true warmth in her by giving her the life she desired.  There was also another advantage . . . she would never have to step foot in the frozen North! 


	18. Chapter 18

King’s Landing 1811  
Tywin Lannister-Darry

The sunlight hurt his eyes when he walked out into the sunlight after having been in the dungeon gaol for days.  At least Kettleblack had a bath draw for him and had sent for fresh clothes and his horse so that he would not leave looking like a beggar in Flea Bottom.  Tywin had two visits to make this day and the early hour made one very difficult.  Baratheon would already be at the House sessions and probably in the thick of debate.  To accomplish his goal, he needed to have Baratheon meet him to then go to where Cercei was now being held in the King’s Palace. 

Tywin thought about going by the Tully townhouse to see how Sansa fared and to thank her.  Not every lady would risk her reputation by being even remotely involved in a scandal, much less in admitting she had just been proposed to by a man accused of committing a murder.  He never thought for a second she would cover it up.  At the end of the day, she was the perfect wife for Baratheon.  They were predisposed to do the right and honorable thing.  Were he to attempt a visit, Sansa would greet him kindly and tell him how she was glad that he was out of harm’s way, that was if the housemaid or Catelyn Tully would let him in the door.  Tywin already knew these things and he knew she needed to put her association with him behind her.   Plus, he owed Baratheon and was fairly certain he would not look favorably on any contact with Sansa any time soon. 

Therefore, he spent the rest of the morning sending out messages to set up the one thing he had to do before he left King’s Landing, possibly for several years.  Tywin meant to return to Darry as soon as matters were resolved to his satisfaction.  In talking to Magistrate Kettleblack that morning as he made to leave and after first hearing what the man knew of the previous night’s drama, he learned a bit of news about a knight he had been in battle with several times.  It seems Ser Garrison Prestor had left this mortal coil having been thrown from his horse.  Tywin had decided he would visit Feastfire in the Westerlands to pay his respects to the very rich, very comely widow of Ser Garrison.  Joanna was yet another distant Lannister cousin and would be in the last month of mourning.  It was the right and proper thing to look in on her and offer whatever consolation he could.

Later in the day, the gamble that Baratheon would answer his request out of curiosity was a good one; however, Baratheon did not feel the need to hide his annoyance.  “What will it take for me to be rid of you and Cercei?” was his sole greeting as they met at the side gate of the King’s Palace.   

Tywin expected nothing less and knew he could neither part with words of appreciation, nor would Baratheon find them comfortable to receive.  Indeed, he needed Baratheon’s assistance one more time.  “Has there been any talk of sparing Cercei the noose?” he asked without any other salutation. 

Running a hand through the thinning hair that crowned his head, Baratheon showed his agitation with a clenched jaw growl.  “You brought me out here merely to inquire about her options?  Could you not go inside and ask her direction?”

Tywin was not the least intimidated.  He wasn’t sure how Baratheon had engineered the events of the last evening such that Robert found himself involved.  It was either a stroke of genius or a fortuitous accident.  Tywin was counting on, when Baratheon exposed her guilt, Robert would suffer a modicum of conscience at not having married Cercei and would make some attempt to save her life, although he was not certain what that outcome would look like. 

Baratheon signed in exasperation when Tywin merely waited for him to answer the question he had asked of him.  “There was talk of banishment.” 

There were the penal islands in the Iron Islands overseen by the Greyjoys where one had to pay to live if allowed the option.  It was usually reserved for nobles or individuals the King could not pardon, but wanted spared the noose.  His cousin Kevan had less reason to hate his father than Cercei did, but he wasn’t overly fond of him to the point where he would insist on his sister dangled from a rope rather than pay the paltry sum of providing food, essentials, and a servant while in captivity on one of the islands.  He only knew of one woman currently suffering such an existence, and that her jailor was a warrior-like woman named Asha.  If Robert allowed such a fate for Cercei, she would hope for a male jailor who she could offer herself to and manipulate until he let her escape.  The idea of a female jailor was cruel and amusing all at the same time. 

Now for the part that concerned him most.  “What conditions were attached?”

“She must confess all.”  Baratheon provided, invoking what he feared.  Tywin now knew he was right to call for Baratheon.  Cercei would believe she could beguile a jury of men into either finding her innocent or, at the least, despite being guilty, make them unable to sentence her to the noose.  It was a chance he did not want to take.  Baratheon had been right.  He bore a measure of guilt; he should never have let her seduce him in the first place and, barring that, he should have walked away from her years ago.  He was culpable because he had enabled her and encouraged her manipulations.  It was possible she could accomplish the feat of finding herself free after the trial, but it was also true that she would self-destruct afterward and take others with her, most probably Kevan.  Tywin also wanted to spare Sansa from any more distress.  A trial might force her to have to testify.  Baratheon was quite right.  It was time he, and Sansa, were rid of them. 

To ensure Cercei took Robert’s offer, Tywin needed to make her afraid not to and his weapon was Baratheon.  “I know you could give a damn, but I need you to help me make her agree to confess.” 

“What motive have I for doing anything of benefit to her?”

Tywin scoffed and gave Baratheon his very best _who are you trying to shit?_ look.  “The benefit is not to her.  The benefit is to Lady Sansa and, therefore, to you.  You don’t want a trial any more than I do.  Our reasons are different, but the goal is the same.” 

Baratheon’s stared at him in thought and then shrugged.  “I don’t see how I can help you accomplish this goal, but I will go with you.” 

As part of his effort of the morning, Tywin had already obtained Robert’s and Ned’s approval to see her.  To his amusement, neither seemed particularly concerned that he would do her harm for having him wrongfully incarcerated, but they were both concerned when he said he would be bringing Baratheon with him.  Little did they know how well founded that concern was about to become. 

They were led down into a dark, dank undergrown area, much like the dungeon he had just left, although this one had full rooms in it.  No less than three guards were outside Cercei’s door.  He was not amused when they all but stripped him to ensure he was not bringing her a weapon or means of escape and saw no reason to do the same to Baratheon.  A short guard with the face of a bulldog opened the door and he immediately caught sight of her, hair down and looking a bit worse for the after-effects of a night of alcoholic dissipation along with the aftermath. 

One look into her eyes and Tywin knew he was right.  She was plotting how she would free herself of having to pay for what she had done and the arrogance he saw there left him certain she had complete faith in her ability.  “Well isn’t this delightful,” she quipped sarcastically, glaring at them with a venomous look.  “My two favorite gallants come to call!”

Baratheon’s jaw was firmly clenched and he could hear him start to grind his teeth.  They were likely to be powder in a matter of minutes.  “I know what you are planning.  I am sure most of the nobility of King’s Landing knows what you are planning.  Some wish you well of it while others are appalled that you might not be held accountable for such a vicious act.  I am here to make sure you see the sense of confessing and accepting banishment.” 

Cercei broke out into a laugh.  “How do _you_ propose to do that?”

Shrugging, Tywin leaned against the stone wall taking in the woman he hated himself for still feeling something for.  For a moment, he had a brief fear that his plan would not work.  Still, he had to try.  “I propose to do it by, in your presence, telling Baratheon what you tried to set in motion.”  Tywin then turned to Baratheon.  “The night of the Prince Regent’s Ball, you know Robert was trying to get you to ask Cercei for the first dance.”

Baratheon turned on him and looked at him as if he was a madman, unable to see where this was going.  “This is about a dance?

“This is about Cercei not having the pleasure of turning you down.  This is about your standing up to the Prince Regent of the realm to avoid, not only courting her, but even lowering yourself to asking her for one paltry dance.  You further incriminated yourself by choosing another.  Cercei Lannistser does not miss much, Baratheon.  She was able to see your interest in Lady Sansa and discern its seriousness, possibly before you yourself did.  That is when she decided the best way to get even with you for slighting her was to find a way to spoil the object of your affection.” 

The effect of this was better than he could have hoped for.  Baratheon’s teeth grinding filled the room for a few seconds while his face began to turn purple as he refocused his attention on Cercei.  He took a few steps closer to her and his hands balled into fists.  Tywin anticipated she was smart enough to be afraid, but he never thought she would show such fear as to back away from Baratheon and practically cower in the corner.  “How was this to be accomplished?” Baratheon ground out his question, still staring daggers at her. 

“I was to court her, take advantage of her, and walk away from her.  I cannot quite remember, but I am quite sure Cercei planned to find some way to make Lady Sansa’s disgrace public and leave you unable to make a bespoiled girl Lady Baratheon.”  Tywin stopped short of admitting that Cercei had said it did not matter if he deflowered her or not, just being seen with him would allow her to cast doubts.  He had been relatively circumspect in his courtship, but now was not the time to explain that with Baratheon if he could help it

Baratheon opened and closed his fists a few times, continuing to start at Cercei while addressing him.  “And thus, you began courting Lady Sansa.”  And so, it looked like he could not avoid some measure of explanation, although he needed to get Baratheon back to Cercei as the chief object of animosity. 

“I did,” Tywin admitted.  “But that night I told her that my intent would be a little different since I had no desire to face you on a field of honor.  We are too evenly matched.  I informed Cercei that I would not go so far as to ruin Lady Sansa, but I would court her and win her in an attempt to allow Cercei to get even by denying you one of the few ladies you have ever shown an interested in.” 

He needed to provoke Cercei into further angering Baratheon, who was just shy of losing control.   “The flaw in her plan was not being able to believe the man most enamored of her would ever completely desert her for someone else.” 

The cowering stopped.  “Liar!  It is not possible you, for one single second, ever preferred that sugary, lemon-cake, boring Riverland chit to me!”  Cercei spat. 

She was absolutely correct.  He could tell a lie, a convincing lie, when it suited him.  “I thought she had abandoned her plan and accepted mine . . . that you would be punished enough if I were able to secure a betrothal.  I have since learned that it was not, especially as she believed I would not secure the betrothal.  Cercei had already started to plant suspicion about Lady Sansa’s reputation.  If she could not sell the notion that I had deflowered her, she was prepared to make her look like an opportunist who would not marry me due to my meager income, but instead was looking for a high wealth target.”

Baratheon leaped toward her, pinning her against the wall with two arms stretched out on either side of her, his face less than an inch from hers.  To call his voice a hiss was an understatement.  It even gave Tywin pause as he had to strain to hear.  “Hear me, Bitch,” Baratheon snarled into her face, “There was a house in the North that used to skin their enemies alive.  I found it barbaric, but I could peel you like a grape and feel not the smallest inkling of remorse.” 

Twyin began to get seriously concerned.  When setting up this course of events, he did not think Baratheon would actually lay a hand on her, but now he was not so sure.  He stepped closer should he need to intervene, but Baratheon’s head shot around quickly, although he still kept Cercei pinned against the wall.  There was a menacing scowl on his face and his eyes were narrowed in barely controlled rage. 

Not one to find fear in an unarmed man, Tywin stared back at him all the while wondering if this wasn’t a bad idea.  He really did not want to take Baratheon on to save her life . . . or his . . . right now.  Baratheon turned back to Cercei, his nostrils flaring.  “Ser Tywin’s aim in telling me this in your presence was to frighten you into confessing and accepting banishment.  I tell you, get your freedom . . . I will assist you in any way possible.  Afterward, I may hang from a noose, but I will smile as no one has ever seen me smile when I remember how I made you suffer before I put an end to you.”

Cercei, eyes wide and trying not to let him see how much she was trembling, still could not help a show of bravado.  “You are overdoing this, Baratheon.  Tywin might have wanted you to scare me, but you’ve carried it a touch too far for me to believe you.  Now that you have secured your happy little life with Sansa Tully, you won’t risk it to end me!” 

“I dare you to test that theory.”  He continued to snarl at her with narrowed eyes as if he had more to say, but then he straightened up and removed his arms from her sides.  “Please . . . put me to the test.  I may wait until I have secured an heir . . .  or I may not.  I, too, am capable of plotting and can ensure I have an account of myself the day you meet your end.    Do not for a second think I would find giving you the justice you deserve by whatever means possible would cause me to think of anything I do to you or have done to you, as anything other than just.”

Baratheon took a deep intake of breath, and turned from her.  Finding the door, he walked out. 

“He is all talk,” Cercei snapped.  “And I had not yet started rumors against her.  I meant to, but I had not done so yet.” 

“You don’t believe he won’t carry out his threat any more than I do,” Tywin contradicted, not bothering to address his embellishment of the truth with her.  “I will be taking my leave of you, My Dear.  Confess and take the banishment . . . and don’t ever utter her name again.”  Before Cercei could reply or even more, he made for the door and did not hesitate in opening it and leaving.  Once outside, he paused and looked around.  Baratheon was leaning with his back against the wall on the opposite end of the hall waiting for him.  He was still livid, but less so than when he had been in the room. 

“She was right.  You might have overplayed.” 

Baratheon cast angry eyes on him.  “Did you at any time mean to harm her?”

“No,” he asserted.  “But hear me.  I brought you here to hear this, anticipating your anger and meaning for it so scare Cercei into doing the safest thing for her.  I meant it when I said we were evenly matched; no outcome between us could be certain.  If you harm her, I will come for you.”

Baratheon’s look changed from anger to incredulity.  “After all this, after she has so blatantly revealed her true character, you still care for her?”

What he felt was tired.  “I will always wonder how much of a hand I had in making her what she has become,” he admitted.  “If she goes for banishment, you will not harm her?”  Tywin was not accustomed to asking for favors and it seemed like he had been doing nothing but asking for them . . . first from Lord Lannister and mostly from Baratheon.  This, he hoped, would be the last of it. 

Jaw clenched, Baratheon tried to calm himself.  Eventually, he peered at Tywin and answered him.  “I want nothing more than to be rid of her.  As long as she is no further harm to Lady Sansa, I am no further harm to her.  But I will not hesitate if she so much as . . . “

“ _If_ ,” Tywin cut in, “if she tries to impugn Lady Sansa’s honor, I will loudly and firmly contradict her.  Anything beyond that, I will do the deed for you.  I owe Lady Sansa thus much.” 

Baratheon nodded in a silent accord.  With nothing else left to say, they both mounted their horses.  Baratheon rode Fury toward the House of Lords and he rode Valyrian down the King’s Road toward his townhouse for what he hoped would the last time in a long time.  


	19. Chapter 19

King’s Landing 1811  
Sansa Tully

In the first few days after the Prince Regent’s Card Party, several events unfolded one after the other.  First, there was the news that Lady Cercei had confessed to the demise of her father and was whisked away in the dead of night to one of the penal islands in the Iron Islands.  Sansa was not entirely sure what such a life would be like and did not want to know.  The mention of Lady Cercei made Stannis begin to grind his teeth, so both Shireen and she avoided it. 

The second thing that came to pass was that Ser Tywin left the following day.  Initially, there were rumors that he was going to live with his cousin, which was something she supposed was allowed to happen when you were banished for it to even be suggested.  However, Stannis said it was not likely and Lord Seaworth said that he passed him on the road back from the Riverlands, so he was probably on his way home to Darry.   

The next event was the announcement of the betrothal of her sister to Lord Hardyng.  Sansa did not enjoy having ill feelings about people and tried her best to like everyone or at least find good in them, nonetheless she could bring herself to be comfortable around Lord Hardying.   Of course, she did her best to hide it and she hoped no one would notice or would take her being quiet as wanting to ensure all attention was on the impending bride. 

The last was the end of the session of the House.  Sansa remembered the Shireen told her Stannis usually would not stay in King’s Landing for more than a day or two beyond the last session.   She had learned of this pattern after she had told Stannis there would be time for them to get to know one another after the sessions had ended and his days were more his own.  There was no talk of the Baratheon’s planning to depart in the near future.  A fortnight came and went, with Sansa spending her days either with Shireen either at the townhouse on The King’s High Street, running errands with her, or paying calls together.  Sansa was introduced to Shireen’s and Stannis’ sister, Rhaella, who would soon give birth to her first chid.  Some days were spent assisting Catelyn with dressmakers as Lord Hardying had insisted that she make use of the King’s Landing dressmakers at his expense for a trousseau.  With the exception of Catelyn, the Tullys and the Baratheons spent less of their evenings at social events and more at the Baratheon townhouse. 

Sansa could not think of a time she enjoyed more than this fortnight that followed the last session of the House, yet she could not think of a time when she had been more confused either.  Everyone seemed to take it for granted that Stannis and she were betrothed; however, there had been no question asked and no answer given.  Perhaps there never would be?  Did everyone expect that, at some point at the end of the Season, she would pack what belongings she brought with her for the Season and ride off to the Stormlands with them instead of the Riverlands with her lord father?  

She thought perhaps he would ask for her hand in marriage when he took her riding in the Baratheon carriage with the top down, as it could be said it was the first time they spent more than a few moments alone together.   It was a very different carriage ride from the time Ser Tywin had taken her on a similar tour of King’s Landing.  She had listened quietly while he pointed out significant landmarks, told stories, and histories of the area, and, because she did not know how to politely stop him, told her a few salacious stories of residents of some of the residences they passed by.   On this ride, Stannis and she talked about many things, none of which were King’s Landing.  They asked each other questions about their opinions on matters where the answers might be of interest to two who might, indeed, live together as man and wife someday.   There was laughter and serious discussion, yet the word _marriage_ was never mentioned.  

There were several carriage rides and many long walks, and while they had talked of taking time to get to know one another, Sansa was finding the expectation without the affirmation a bit wearing.   Her father said nothing on the subject.  She could only wish the same could be said for Catelyn, who never ceased in her speculation about what it could mean that he had not affirmed his intentions.  Sansa always answered that there was no reason to rush.  The truth of the matter was that she had developed a recent sense of urgency.  It was due to the fact that no well-bred lady allowed a man to truly kiss her unless they are betrothed.   Sansa would never admit to Catelyn or anyone for that matter how badly she wanted Stannis to kiss her and how much she thought about it.   The other new revelation she would tell no one was that she no longer thought about a wedding night with fear.   What she thought about, when she allowed herself to think about their wedding night, was quite the opposite of fear. 

On one particular afternoon when visiting Shireen and Lord Seaworth with Stannis curiously absent, she learned that Stannis and Shireen’s mother, Lady Selmy, would be arriving in King’s Landing any day to attend the birth of Lady Rhaella.  Sansa could not say that Shireen sounded terribly excited about seeing her lady mother, whom she had not seen for at least several years.  She did not press for details and felt sympathy for her friend as she did not seem to be close to her mother.  Long ago, Sansa noticed that both of the Baratheon siblings talked respectfully of their mother, but not affectionately.    As they took refreshment and Lord Seaworth humored them with stories of his journey toward the RIverlands with a less-than-joyous Lysa in tow, the Baratheon butler came into the room and handed Sansa a note.  She noticed Shireen and Seaworth exchanging smiles at one another as she gently pryed apart the folded edges of the paper sealed with wax and an imprint of the stag seal of House Baratheon. 

> There is yet another man waiting in hope in yet another garden with a question to put before you.
> 
> S. B.

_A note . . . a one-sentence note!_   Sansa felt that now-familiar rush of sensation as she hoped she had the right of what awaited her in the Baratheon’s garden.  She looked at Shireen who smiled back at her and said, “Gower will show you to the garden.” 

It was daylight and not the dark of night.  Stannis stood by the door and extended his arm to her rather than leaning up against a tree.  Wordlessly, he walked her to spot where the shrubbery shielded them for the view of anyone who might want to watch the unfolding tableau.  While Sansa knew Shireen and Seaworth might be tempted to do so, she was equally certain they would not.  No, Stannis must be trying to avoid servants who guessed what was taking place from peering out of windows.   Sansa took it all in . . . she wanted to be sure she could remember every last detail, from the type of shrubbery to the dark waist coat Stannis wore. 

Lowering his arm as a signal that it was time for her to let go of it, he took a few steps to stand before her and, in a gesture that was considered proper yet surprising from him, Stannis bent on one knee.   “My Lady, it was once the custom to bend the knee to a king out of a sign of respect and I am glad we now bow so that I can say to you that I have bent the knee to no one other than you.”

He stopped, giving her a look of concern.  It took her a second to understand it was because tears were beginning to form and one or two had escaped to fall down her cheeks.  Sansa smiled, briefly wiping at one of the tears.  “Please . . . go on.” 

A half smile played at his lips at her eagerness to hear him out before he returned to a serious expression and continued.  “You have my heart, Sansa.  The Common Tongue has no word that perfectly describes the depth of what I feel for you.  It has been said that I have a love for justice, yet it seems ridiculous to compare or equate my feeling for such a thing as justice with what I feel for you.  I want to share a life and a home with you, but this is not about what I want.  What I would know is what you want.  Do you want to marry me?” 

“Yes,” Sansa murmured, her words choked by the tears that now ran freely down her face.  Then a little louder and with as clear a voice as she could manage, “I very much want to marry you, Stannis!“

The speed with which Stannis was able to go from bended knee to pulling her into his arms was both impressive and greatly appreciated.   “I will wait as long as you wish and we will be married wherever you like,” Stannis whispered against her ear.  “I beg you not to make me wait too long.” 

Grateful Stannis could not see her blushing as her head lay on his shoulder, Sansa quickly replied, “If the High Septon of R’hllor were to give you a special license this hour, I would marry you the hour after.”

Stannis pulled back from her just enough to be able to look at her, she presumed to tease her for her eagerness.  Instead, his expression was pensive.  “You would forgo a large wedding in Blackfish or Storm’s End?” 

“I know, as a high lord of a liege house, you have obligations that must be considered.  I merely meant it I wished it to be soon and have no desire for more fanfare than necessary.” 

His look of approval made her giddy and then his eyes began to darken.  One of his hands left her back to cradle her cheek and she leaned into it, closing her eyes.  She was soon rewarded with the feel of his lips on hers.  The initial kisses he placed on and around her lips were tentative, with lips neither pursed tightly, nor open . . . and then she realized, he was coaxing her to relax.  There was too much need in her to relax and she started to open her mouth to say something to encourage him, although she had no idea what she would have said.  The moment her lips parted, his hand moved around to her neck and he deepened the kiss and she melted into him.  She had no idea tongues were meant to be involved in kissing and she trusted that Stannis would not do anything he was not supposed to do.  And even if he were, at this moment, he had her full consent to continue while she emulated his actions in hopes it gave him the same measure of pleasure. 

When he finally pulled away from her and returned his hand to her waist, she heard a quite embarrassing noise of protest come from her throat and, for the first time ever, she saw Stannis Baratheon look smug. 

“Shireen and Seaworth are to be wed by special license shortly after Rhaella’s child is born so that my mother, Rhaella, and Steffon may attend.  She suggested that we marry at the same time.  Again, it shall be as you wish.  If you want Lysa in attendance or for us to travel to Blackfish at the end of the season and be married there . . . “

“There is no need!” she blurted out, reddening madly afterward.  To his credit, he tried not to look as smug this time.  “If Shireen does not object to a double wedding, I think it would be the most prudent course of action.” 

“Prudent,” Stannis said, teasing.  “Yes, I am all for our being _prudent_.”  His countenance grew serious again and his eyes surveyed her in such a way that she was fearful her limbs would cease to support her, “I told you that there is no word that sums up what I feel for you and I may vex you for not having soft words easily at my disposal.  But I know with all my heart that my last thought will be of you and I swear to you that I will cherish you from this day to that.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reads this to conclusion and a very special thank you to those who commented and went along with my little Regency Westeros fantasy! Love you all . . . 
> 
> PS - I may write a ghost chapter after this by way of a "joke" for my favorite commenters, Tommyginger and spittingfeathers. So if it shows up, it has to do with me telling them how I originally planned to go at one point and the chapter would be how part of that would have worked since it didn't make it into this story.


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